


Sing Me A Song Of Heroes

by Alistairs_Queen



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BDSM, F/F, F/M, Gen, Light BDSM, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-08 02:04:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 225,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21468277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alistairs_Queen/pseuds/Alistairs_Queen
Summary: Cirilla Trevelyan escaped her fate of being sent to the Chantry on her family's wishes by running away to attend college in Val Royeaux. Her love of history and music, and her abilities with a pair of daggers soon got her recruited by a Bard Master. When the Circle of Magi collapsed, her Patron sent her to Ferelden with his mage nephew to keep him out from under the watchful eyes of a few rogue templars in Val Royeaux. He also ordered her to spy on the Conclave being held by the Divine to try and bring peace between the Mages and Templars. It is at this Conclave where Cirilla's world is turned upside down.
Relationships: Cole/Maryden Halewell, Dagna/Sera (Dragon Age), Dorian Pavus/Cullen Rutherford, Female Inquisitor/Iron Bull, Iron Bull/Female Trevelyan, Male Hawke/Isabela
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	1. Andraste's Mabari

**Author's Note:**

> I went a little different from Canon with this story, working outside of my comfort zone and pushing myself to make Cirilla (yes, I took her name from the Witcher series) one of my favorite characters to write as she struggles with the drastic changes in her life. I hope you all like it.

Cirilla twirled her ring around her finger so the sharp protrusion laced with poison was nestled in her palm. She wore a charming smile that dazzled the bustle of nobles that moved around the ballroom of her patron's estate. She had been plucking at her lute only moments ago, singing the tale of Ser Aveline as requested by one of the men that Anselmo Tourneur (her patron for going on two years now) had marked for death that night. She moved gracefully to the dance floor where the man waited with reddened cheeks and glazed eyes from the many goblets of wine he had imbibed already. She turned her smile on him as she approached. "Ah, my dear, you have the voice of a songbird," he said, his words a bit slurred around his drunken tongue.

"You are too kind, Lord Donant. I have not been able to sing the tale of Aveline in such a long time, it was a pleasure," she lied, having had the song requested thrice in the last fortnight. She held out her hand and he fell for her trap, grasping her fingers, his own forefinger scraping along the pointed bit of silver. He hissed in displeasure, pulling his hand away and drawing the small, trickle of blood to his lips. "I am so sorry, my Lord." She apologized, her voice pitched perfectly to show the accident was just that. "Silly me. I always turn my ring when I play. I must have forgotten to put it back in place."

"It's quite all right. Only a scratch," he said, removing the finger from his mouth as she artfully returned the ring to it's rightful position. The poison was slow acting. It would take days for the effects to surface and this party and the incident would be a distant memory, making it impossible for the murder to be traced back to Tourneur or herself. "Think nothing of it. Perhaps another song might assist me in forgetting."

She dipped in a brief curtsy. "Whatever you wish," she said, her smile never faltering.

As the party wound to a close, the servants began to put out the lingering gentry and Cirilla packed away her lute. She hummed to herself as she gently laid the delicate instrument in it's case. "The things I could do to that voice," Anslemo purred as he approached her on the dais where she had been positioned to play.

She paused and turned, standing from her crouch, careful not to tread on the hem of her dress. She allowed a genuine smile to play across her features as she padded to meet him. "Aren't you going to inquire if I was successful?" She touched her palms to his chest over the shimmering doublet he wore and slid them up to grip his shoulders and pull herself closer to his body.

He chuckled deep in his chest, a genuine note that she had only ever heard when they were alone. "My dear Ciri, I don't need to ask after your success. I have never had a more efficient bard on my payroll."

She looped her arms around his neck. "So am I allowed to know why the poor dear Lord Donant deserved the adder's kiss I served him?"

Anselmo's hands lifted to rest on her waist, his fingers gripping her hips as he spoke. "He has family in the Chantry. A brother who is a templar to be more specific. I've information that his brother was sniffing around my nephew only days ago. I needed to give the brute something else to investigate while I get my nephew out of the city."

Anslemo's nephew was a mage. The boy had been liberated form the Circle when the mages had rebelled, but being an 'apostate' was still a dangerous thing. Cirilla nodded in understanding. "Is there somewhere specific that you were going to send him, Annie?" she wondered.

"That is another step in my plans that I will be needing you for," he said as his hands wandered over her rear. She tipped her head in curiosity, her fingers playing in his hair. "There has been news from Ferelden that the Divine is calling a conclave to be held at the Temple of Sacred Ashes in the Frostback Mountains. It is apparently a meeting between the leaders of both the mages and the templars so an agreement can be reached for peace. Once the suspicion has been drawn from young Beirand, I would like for you to see him to Ferelden. Once he is safe, I need for you to attend this conclave and bring news of the results. I cannot be seen as showing an interest in mage affairs. You understand."

She nodded. "Of course."

Cirilla had dropped Beirand in a village near lake Calenhad and then trekked back to Haven. The climb to the Temple of Sacred Ashes was not an easy one, but she was certainly not alone. Hundreds of sword bearing templars, and staff laden mages made the tense climb alongside her. She was likely not the only spy that numbered among the bodies, but that was no reason to stick out. She pulled her dark hood up over her short red hair and tucked her daggers away at the small of her back instead of riding her hips as they usually did. That way, they were concealed by the numerous pouches of potions and grenades that she kept on her person. Her lute was strapped on her back as well. She never went anywhere without it. Even as she blended perfectly with the crowd around her, she hummed thoughtlessly.

When the temple came into view ahead, she had to stop and stare. It was a thing of wonder. Tall spires stood around a central building made of stone. Statues of Andraste lined the path standing several stories tall. Cirilla was humbled. She had been raised Andrastian, even promised to the Chantry before she ran away from home to attend University in Val Royeaux. She believed, wholeheartedly, in the Maker, but the Chantry was not the place for her. She said a short prayer, her boots sinking in the snow at her feet as she stood still for a moment and took in the grandeur of the final resting place of Andraste herself.

The rest of the climb felt inconsequential. She slipped inside the temple with a group of noisy templars and then dipped off to the side to get a sense of the atmosphere. The first thing she felt was tension. The room was divided into dozens of small groups of both mages and templars mumbling among themselves, but none of them intermingling. Most everyone was wearing a scowl. The second thing she took note of was a group of templars near the rear of the hall surrounding a chair where a wizened woman in Cleric's robes sat, her eyes studiously looking all around the room. Cirilla recognized her immediately. Divine Justinia. The woman looked disappointed in the general puckered assholes that were all around the room. As a bard, Cirilla's job was to ease tension. Inspiration struck her, beyond sense. She moved closer to the center of the room and also toward the Divine, catching the woman's eyes and offering her a wink as she pulled her lute from her back. Clearing her throat and plucking a few notes to be certain she was in tune, Cirilla began to strum an upbeat melody that drew attention to her immediately. She glanced back at the Divine and the woman was harboring a small smirk of amusement under her ridiculous hat as Cirilla began to sing.

_You know Andraste's old __mabari__.__  
__He don't show up in the __Chant__.__  
__And if you ask those holy sisters,__  
__Well, they'll say Andraste can't__  
__Have had some big old smelly wardog.__  
__But all __Ferelden_ _knows it right:__  
__Our sweet Lady needed someone__  
__Who would warm her feet at night.__  
  
__And there's Andraste's mabari__  
__By the Holy Prophet's side.__  
__In the fight against __Tevinter__,__  
__That dog would never hide.__  
__They say __the Maker __sent him special,__  
__Always loyal, without pride,__  
__So he could be the sworn companion__  
__Of the Maker's Holy Bride.__  
  
__Oh, that dog, he guards Andraste__  
__Without arrogance or fear,__  
__Only asking of his mistress__  
__Just a scratch behind the ears.__  
__But then old __Maf'rath_ _gets to plotting,__  
__Tries to lure that dog away.__  
__But even as they trap the Prophet,__  
__Her mabari never strays.__  
  
__And there's Andraste's mabari__  
__By the Holy Prophet's side.__  
__In the fight against Tevinter,__  
__That dog would never hide.__  
__They say the Maker sent him special,__  
__Always loyal, without pride,__  
__So he could be the sworn companion__  
__Of the Maker's Holy Bride.__  
  
__Oh they thought the wounds had killed him,__  
__But then he limped out toward the fire.__  
__And __Hessarian__, he shed a tear,__  
__As that dog laid on the pyre.__  
  
__And there's Andraste's mabari__  
__By the Holy Prophet's side.__  
__In the fight against Tevinter,__  
__That dog would never hide.__  
__They say the Maker sent him special,__  
__Always loyal, without pride,__  
__So he could be the sworn companion__  
__Of the Maker's Holy Bride.__  
  
__Yes that mabari's the companion__  
__Of the Maker's Holy Bride_

As she finished up her song, the Divine began to clap. Cirilla took a bow to the woman as the clap turned into hundreds. All around the room, the tension began to lift. The Divine beckoned to Cirilla and the bard took down her hood and approached the Most Holy, dropping to one knee when she was a respectable distance away. "What is your name, child?" Justinia asked in a thick Orlesian accent.

"Cirilla, Your Holiness," she answered.

"You are a Free Marcher, are you not? I recognize your accent, although you dress like an Orlesian," the Divine said knowingly. "Am I to assume your patron sent you to return with news?"

"I, _am _a bard, Your Holiness, but I am not here to cause trouble, only to observe. I don't have a pony in this particular race." Cirilla explained.

"I will not pry into the business of your patron. I only wish to thank you for the lovely entertainment. I believe it is just what this lot needed," Justinia said, her tall hat dipping as she tipped her head in thanks. That conversation was the last thing Cirilla remembered short of flashes of fear and urgency and the glow of a feminine figure at her side.

Her mouth tasted like ash and she could feel deep cuts on her face that had been tended to while she slept. The few stitches itched and the cut on her lip throbbed each time she opened her mouth, blood dripping from it constantly reopening. As best she could, she lifted her arm and wiped the blood from her chin. Her arms were manacled together at the wrists, a bar separating them and impeding her movement. She was clueless as to what had landed her on her knees in a dungeon with guards pointing swords in her face. What in the Maker's name had happened? She glanced down at the pulsing ache that was her left hand. At random intervals every few minutes, a crackle of some kind of magic would flare around her hand, lighting the room in a green glow and dragging gasps of pain from her throat as the sensation of every one of her nerve endings lighting on fire crept all the way to her shoulder. The problem with that was that Cirilla was definitely _not_ a mage.

As she stared at the puzzling mark, the door swung open with a loud bang, light pouring in from the dangling braziers lining the ceiling of the hallway beyond. She calmly dropped her hand down to her knee and watched the two women who entered. One was dressed in thick hide armor and a metal cuirass emblazoned with the heraldry of the Seekers of Truth, a Chantry organization. There was a sword at her hip and a shield on her back. Her hair was cut short with a braid circling her scalp like a crown. Her jaw was sharp, and her cheekbones high and harsh, giving her a sort of dark beauty. Her left cheek was scarred deeply from her cheekbone to her jaw and she had another cut on the opposite cheek much thinner and smaller, but more recent. She set a scowl on Cirilla with dark brown eyes and brows that seemed permanently arched in un-amusement.

The second woman was fairer of skin with strands of short red hair peeking from beneath a purple hood. Her expression was less scowly, but Cirilla knew from personal experience that the most pleasant of faces could be the most dangerous. Her hood was clasped over the right side of her chest with a fist sized brooch bearing another Chantry symbol. The sunburst. Her shoulders had thin leather pauldrons that shaped around her body and were part of the chainmail hauberk that also molded to her frame like it was made especially for her. It hung all the way to her knees, the seams split into four at her waist so the pieces clinked lightly together as she moved. The noise was obviously intentional in the way she moved, crossing her leather glove clad forearms over her chest as her light blue eyes watched Cirilla with curiosity. Over her hide pants were knee high greaves made of spiky silverite. Cirilla knew a fellow bard when she saw one. Whether the other woman was as observant remained to be seen.

The dark haired Seeker spoke first, circling Cirilla like a tiger ready to pounce. "Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now." Her voice was harsh and demanding, her accent Nevarran, making Cirilla wonder even more what exactly had happened. Cirilla kept her shoulders down, trying not to show defiance of any kind until she knew what she was being accused of. She was not an all together innocent person, but she didn't believe she would have done anything at the conclave to merit this reaction. She almost couldn't help the gasp that escaped her at the next words from the Seeker. "The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for _you._" Cirilla's brow furrowed, but she remained silent, trying to grasp hold of the situation. Everyone was dead and they were accusing her? How had she escaped, and why couldn't she remember? What was this damned mark on her hand? Did they even know who she was? Her eyes flicked back and forth between the circling Seeker and the quiet bard. Suddenly, her hand was yanked up from where it rested on her knee. "Explain _this_." The Seeker growled, the mark choosing then to flare with agony. Cirilla clenched her fist as the Seeker shoved her arm back down roughly.

"I... I can't," she blurted, her own lack of memory more disturbing than the fact that the mark was there.

"What do you mean you 'can't'?" the Seeker grunted in disbelief as the bard began to circle her as well.

Cirilla fought the urge to swivel her head from side to side so she could watch them both. "I don't know what that is, or how it got there," she insisted, her own voice betraying her fear at the situation. She needed to get herself under control. A good bard feared nothing.

"You're lying!" the Seeker raged, leaning down to grab hold of the front of Cirilla's clothing and shake her.

The bard intervened immediately, pulling the Seeker off her and walking her back a few paces. "We need her, Cassandra."

While they were distracted, staring each other down, Cirilla took a deep breath, swallowing her fear and anger, masking them with a stoic and neutral expression. "So what happens now?" she asked loudly, drawing attention back to her.

The bard turned to regard her, and in a soft Orlesian accent, she asked, "Do you remember what happened? How this began?"

Cirilla closed her eyes and hung her head, feigning like she was thinking, but she had already wracked her brain while she waited for them to show. There were only a few things she could scarcely recall. "I remember running. Things were chasing me, and then... a woman?" That was the thing that she was most curious about. Who had been with her. All she could remember was a flash of a face, but not who the face had belonged to. It was like a hazy dream.

"A woman?" the bard asked with a curious tone, crossing her arms.

"She reached out to me, but then..." Cirilla sighed and closed her eyes. Trying to recall was giving her a headache on top of all her other aches. The cut on her lip had come open again and she swiped at it gently with her sleeve.

"Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take her to the rift," the Seeker, Cassandra apparently, said in a much gentler tone than the one she had been using with Cirilla. The bard, Leliana, gave one last interested glance in Cirilla's direction before nodding. Cirilla held in any reaction she might have given to realizing who the bard truly was and watched her leave.

Cassandra knelt before her and began to unlock her restraints, only to re-tie her hands together immediately. "What _did_ happen?" Cirilla asked her, hoping that cooperation might get her some answers.

Cassandra set an almost sympathetic look on her as she secured the ropes around her hands and helped her to her feet. "It... will be easier to show you."

As they left the dungeon and Cirilla got a glimpse of the world outside, she began to realize where she was being held. There were archives everywhere behind locked gates along a dark and narrow hallway. The insides of the rooms were not lit for fear of a fallen candle or stray flicker of flame would catch fire to something important. Cirilla had been in enough Chantrys to know a basement of one when she saw it. Her suspicions were confirmed when Cassandra led her up a flight of stairs and into the main hall. Light blazed from torches mounted on pillars that lined the area where pews had once stood. They had since been moved out of the way and stacked in rows behind the pillars in the alcoves on either side of the runner of carpet that spanned the length of the hall, all of the way to a narrower section in the rear that had several rooms carved in a U shape. They headed for the tall oak doors that would lead them outside and Cassandra pushed them open. Cirilla lifted her bound arms to shield her eyes from the brightness of the daylight, even as muted as it was.

The day was overcast, and she followed Cassandra into a small mountain village. This close to the Temple of Sacred Ashes, they could only be in Haven. She took in the light snowfall happening around them and the muddy state of the gravel streets of the village before her eyes were drawn upwards. She could not school the expression that dropped her jaw in shock at what she saw. High in the sky, a vortex of clouds was causing the dimness of the sun. The outskirts of the vortex looked to be regular gray storm clouds that faded to lighter fluffier clouds towards the center of the swirl. Lightning crackled among the clouds, but it was no normal lightning. The flashes were the same color as the magical green mark on her palm. The center of the vortex was also the sickly bright green color. Large rocks defied gravity, floating near the top of the eye and a thick magical curtain of energy reached from the eye and below to the ground, disappearing from Cirilla's sight in the mountains. If her sense of direction was correct, it hovered directly over the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

As she stared up in awe, Cassandra spoke. "We call it 'the Breach'. It's a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour. It's not the only such rift. Just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the conclave."

Cirilla dragged her eyes from the Breach and frowned at Cassandra. "An explosion can do that?"

"This one did," Cassandra said wryly, moving from where she had gotten ahead of Cirilla when she had stopped to gape. "Unless we act, the Breach may grow until it swallows the world."

As if on cue, a loud pop of sound resonated across the sky and the mark on her palm flashed and crackled, the magic dragging her to her knees. She cried out, pulling her hand into a fist and cradling it against her stomach as the magic fizzled.

Cassandra took a knee in front of her, gesturing in explanation. "Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads... and it is killing you." Cirilla felt the blood drain from her cheeks and her stomach flipped. She was dying? "It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn't much time."

With the realization of her fate, her anger flared and she snapped at Cassandra. "So if I do what you want, will I live through it?"

"We have no way of knowing," Cassandra said truthfully, standing and dragging Cirilla back to her feet. She guided her along with a hand on her back through the village. Cirilla took in her surroundings, pinpointing every detail of the placement of every building they passed, and every face that stood along the road to gape as they went by. Most people wore accusatory scowls and stood with crossed arms, glaring at her being led to her doom. By way of explanation, Cassandra said, "They have decided your guilt. They need it. The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, head of the Chantry. The Conclave was hers. It was a chance for peace between mages and templars. She brought their leaders together. Now, they are dead." They left the village and passed through a short stretch of woods that lined the main road. Finally, they came to the paved and built up road that would lead them into the valley where the Temple stood. "We lash out, like the sky, but we must think beyond ourselves, as she did." From the short conversation she had with the Divine, she had seemed a decent woman. Cirilla did not quite know how to feel whenever the fact resurfaced that she was the only survivor. Why her? "Until the Breach is sealed." Cassandra gently tugged her to a stop just through the gates to the path and circled around in front of her drawing a knife. "There will be a trial. I can promise no more." She cut the ropes binding Cirilla's hands and Cirilla rubbed at the chafed skin. "Come. It is not far."

"Where are you taking me?" Cirilla asked, her tone carefully schooled to not sound accusatory as she fell into step behind Cassandra. Cooperation was key to her survival.

"Your mark must be tested on something smaller than the Breach," Cassandra explained, not really revealing exactly where they were going.

The further from the village they walked, there were fewer villagers and more uniformed soldiers. Some were idle, catching a few breaths along the side of the road. Others ran, bustling from one place to another. And still more were deep in prayer, the Chant of Light carrying on the air and calming Cirilla's anger. Whatever happened now was in the Maker's hands. They bypassed blockades on the road and she noticed large balls of fiery magic blazing from the Breach above to fall to the ground all around the valley. It explained the sporadic patches of burning blockade that they kept running into along the road. She was just about to ask for some information when the Breach let off another loud and debilitating pop that had her tripping over her own feet and falling to the ground. Her skull lit up like fire, the pulse reaching further than it had before and blinding her momentarily. Cassandra was at her side, helping her back to her feet and giving a reassuring pat to her shoulder. "The pulses are coming faster now," she said, sealing the need for urgency. "The larger the Breach grows, the more rifts appear, the more demons we face."

Cirilla took a breath and followed, slowly building back up to a jog as Cassandra led her forward. "How _did_ I survive the blast?" she wondered as Cassandra slowed a bit when they approached another stone bridge over the frozen lake below.

"They said you... stepped out of a rift, then fell unconscious," Cassandra explained. "They say a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was." At least that told her she had not been the only one to see the woman. "Everything farther in the valley was laid waste, including the Temple of Sacred Ashes. I suppose you'll see soon enough." So they _were_ heading to the Temple. Cirilla rubbed at the mark on her hand and wished she could remember anything. The Temple had been immaculate when she arrived. The loss of memory was frustrating.

Near the end of the bridge, one of the balls of green fire slammed down in front of them, shattering the bridge and spilling her and Cassandra onto the glassy surface of the frozen lake. Cirilla landed on her side, the wind briefly knocked out of her before she rolled down off the rubble she had hit and onto the lake. Broken pieces of bridge and bits of the carts full of supplies that had been in the way of the fireball rained down around Cirilla. She shielded her head as everything settled and then pushed to her knees, Cassandra already blasting past her with her weapons drawn and shouting for Cirilla to stay behind her. Cirilla watched as she engaged with what Cirilla could only assume was one of the demons Cassandra had mentioned. It had no legs, hovering around on the air. The robes it wore tapered in at the waist and then rounded back out to form a hunched upper body, giving it an hourglass shape with two spindly arms that grew from it's upper body. As she watched Cassandra fight, light whispering sounds reached her ears and she looked around to identify the source. Between her and Cassandra, a patch of the ground was covered in a hazy black and green wisp of smoke and light. As she realized that a demon was readying to manifest, she panicked, crawling back toward the rubble to put distance between her and the demon. She glanced around in haste and finally spotted a shimmer of metal sticking out from an overturned crate. She scurried to her feet and lurched the crate open, grabbing for two of the daggers nestled in the straw packing. They were nowhere near as nicely crafted as the ones she had brought with her from Val Royeaux, but they would save her life. She turned on the demon as it crawled up from beneath the ground.

Instinct kicked in and she began to hum an enchantment into the metal as she took a fighting stance. The demon reached out, slashing at her with long claws. She easily danced out of the way, returning the slash with one of her own. The daggers whistled through the air as she moved, cutting gashes in the demon's flesh. She was too fast for it to keep up as she flowed across the slippery surface of the lake. When she took the killing blow, the demon fell and smoked back into the ground. Cassandra was just finishing up with her own demon and Cirilla took a swift look around to be sure there were no more coming. "It's over," she gasped in relief as Cassandra's demon disappeared from a sword to the chest.

Cassandra turned from the dead demon and charged for Cirilla, her sword raised and her eyes blazing. Cirilla felt her hands instinctively tighten around the hilts of the daggers as Cassandra shouted, "Drop your weapons, now!" her sword uncomfortably close to Cirilla's chest.

Cirilla had learned that in most cases, cooler heads would prevail, so she swallowed and loosened her grip on the hilts, flipping the daggers so the blades were in her hands. Her original plan to cooperate had worked out so far. "All right. Have it your way."

It gladdened Cirilla to see the momentary widening of Cassandra's eyes before she lowered her sword and returned it to it's scabbard. "Wait. I cannot protect you, and I cannot expect you to be defenseless." She turned and began to head for the bank and a small path that would lead them back up to the road. "Your life is threatened enough as it is." Cirilla followed, slipping the daggers safely away where her original ones had once rested in her belt. As they continued ahead in silence, Cirilla itched for more information. She had never gone into a situation without all of the facts. Cassandra reached into a pouch on her belt and pulled out a handful of vials full of red liquid. Healing potions. "Take these potions," she said, handing them off to Cirilla. "Maker knows what we will face."

As Cirilla carefully pocketed the vials, she noted the lack of anyone else on the path. "Where are all your soldiers?"

"At the forward camp, or fighting. We are on our own, for now." Cassandra explained. Cirilla was wondering just how long it had been since the conclave. How much of her memory was missing? A day? Several? A week? They were hounded by demons as they followed the river below the path to wherever Cassandra had in mind, and Cirilla did not have the chance to get any more information from her. After at least half an hour of fighting and trudging over rough and broken terrain, Cassandra said, "We are getting close to the rift. You can hear the fighting."

"Who's fighting?" Cirilla asked. They had not seen another person since the bridge had exploded beneath them.

"You'll see soon. We must help them," Cassandra said, picking up the pace up the steep hill.

At the crest of the hill, there was a wooden bridge to their right that was ten shades of messed up, on fire being the least of it's problems. Ignoring the dead end, She followed along the base of the upper stone road, seeing a hovering green crystal snapping and crackling and reshaping before her very eyes. Below on the ground, several demons were engaged with some soldiers, a bald elven mage, and a beardless dwarf with a crossbow. Cassandra wasted no time in darting into the fray, her shield bashing her a path through the demons. Cirilla watched a soldier get cut down by one of the demons and she whisked into his place, stepping over his bleeding corpse to keep the demon from finding a new target. Her palm tingled and flared with the proximity to the shifting crystal, but she ignored it and fought on. She was getting rather skilled at killing demons, needing only a few instances to adjust to their weak spots. The ability to be an efficient killer was all part of being a bard. Even if she was used to human victims, it was a lateral adjustment so far.

There seemed to be a lull in the demons and Cassandra caught her eye to beckon her over toward the crystal. It was no longer a crystal, but a shimmering green window that gave them a glimpse into the twisted world of the demons. Cirilla was dumbstruck as she approached, staring into the gap in the world. The bald elf took hold of her wrist and lifted her arm."Quickly!" he said over the sound of rushing water that seemed to be coming from the rift. "Before more come through."

He shoved her arm upwards, his grip tight as the mark reacted. The magic flared, shocking up and down her forearm before a tendril of thick green light arched from her palm to the center of the rift. She felt a building of power that threatened to wash over her senses just like the intense pressure of an unsatisfied orgasm just before the dam broke. Just when she thought she could take no more, a loud snap shattered the rushing sound and the rift closed, leaving her palm tingling as the power returned where it belonged. She yanked down on her arm, pulling it to her chest as the elf's grip left her. "What did you do?" she gasped.

He looked upon her with pleasant gray eyes that were flecked with shimmers of brown and blue. He had a strong jaw and a narrow, dimpled chin. He was attractive for an elf, even without hair. His body was tall and lithe and he dressed in a simple tunic and green lambskin vest. He wore no shoes below his matching green leggings and foot-wraps. His staff was tucked on his back behind a travelers backpack. He stood in a manner that conveyed propriety, but casualness that she recognized as the stance of someone who knew how to be charming. His tone when he answered her was self assured and a little bit proud. "_I_ did nothing. The credit is yours."

"_I_ closed that thing? How?" she asked, pulling her hand away from her chest to look at the slowly calming blaze of green on her palm.

"Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach's wake... and it seems I was correct," he said with a growing grin.

"Meaning it could also close the Breach itself," Cassandra guessed hopefully.

"Possibly," the elf said with a nod. "It seems you hold the key to our salvation." The word to describe him that Cirilla had been searching for since he started to talk came to her in an instant as she blinked slowly at him. Cocksure.

Her thoughts were interrupted by another voice. "Good to know! Here I thought we'd be ass deep in demons forever." Cirilla turned to get a glimpse of the speaker, and it was the dwarf with the crossbow. He wore a silky red tunic beneath a brown leather coat that showcased his impressive tuft of chest hair. She nearly chuckled at the thought that he had no beard because it had fallen onto his chest as he strolled over toward them, his smirk spreading across his face. His nose was crooked and recently broken, a deep gash across the bridge evidence to that. His short, dirty-blonde hair was pulled back on the top, not much of it making it into the tiny tail that served simply to keep it out of his face. He wore a thick dwarven style necklace and his ears were pierced with several golden rings. "Varric Tethras," he said in introduction, and Cirilla closed off her expression, recognizing the name immediately. Nearly everyone in Orlais had read his work. He was a fantastic author. "Rogue, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tag-along." He turned his charming smirk on Cassandra and winked one light brown eye at her. She sneered in disgust before dismissively turning away from him.

"That's... a nice crossbow you have there," Cirilla commented with her own charming smile.

He let out an appreciative sound and glanced over his shoulder. "Ah, isn't she? Bianca and I have been through a lot together."

Cirilla chuckled. "You named your crossbow Bianca?" She had never guessed that the Tale of the Champion that Varric had written had been quite so true.

"Of course. And she'll be great company in the valley," he said with a small shrug.

"Absolutely not!" Cassandra objected. "Your help is appreciated, Varric, but..."

He cut her off with a sarcastic chuckle of his own. "Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker? Your soldiers aren't in control anymore. You need me." His expression said he was enjoying rubbing salt in a wound between him and Cassandra.

She let out a grunt of disgust and waved an angry dismissive hand, turning from him in frustration. "My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions," the elven mage interrupted, making certain that they remembered he was there. "I am pleased to see you still live."

Cirilla tipped her head in curiosity as Varric added his own explanation. "He means, 'I kept that mark from killing you while you slept'."

"You seem to know a great deal about it all," Cirilla said, poking at bolstering his ego. If she was going to be fighting at these people's sides, she needed to make them like her, regardless of her own feelings on them.

Cirilla noted her success in the small flicker of a smirk that crossed Solas' face as Cassandra said, "Solas is an apostate, well-versed in such matters."

"Technically all mages are now apostates, Cassandra," Solas reminded her before returning his attention to Cirilla. "My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade, far beyond the experience of any circle mage. I came to offer whatever help I can give with the Breach. If it is not closed, we are all doomed, regardless of origin."

It was a convincing speech, even if a bit puffed up. Cirilla nodded and offered an encouraging smile that said she was impressed. "That's a commendable attitude."

He dipped his head in acceptance of her compliment and countered. "Merely a sensible one, although sense appears to be in short supply right now. Cassandra, you should know, the magic involved here is unlike any I have seen. Your prisoner is no mage. Indeed, I find it difficult to imagine _any_ mage having such power."

"Understood," Cassandra said with a short bow of her head. "We must get to the forward camp quickly."

Cassandra and Solas both started off, heading over a rail to the embankment so they could bypass the crumbled road ahead. Varric reached out and patted Cirilla's elbow. "Well, Bianca's excited!"

She shook her head and they started off after the others. Varric was full of questions that Cirilla skillfully answered with both truths and falsities based upon how much she really wanted anyone to know about her. She was not certain if they were even aware of who she was just yet. She had been born into the nobility of Ostwick. Her entire childhood, she had lived in the lap of luxury, wanting for nothing and being trained in the art of propriety and etiquette. When she came of age, her family intended her for the Chantry as several of her cousins and other distant relatives who were too far down the line of succession to inherit any titles or holdings. No matter how deep her belief in the Maker ran, the life of a sister was not for her. She had absconded with as many sovereigns as she could carry and enrolled herself in the University of Orlais. That was where she discovered that not only could she carry herself like a highborn lady due to her upbringing, but she also had a mind for history, and she could dance as well on the battlefield as she could in a ballroom. She had been quickly snatched up by a bard master early in her education and gone through the rigorous training of the profession. Anselmo had not been her first patron by a long shot, but she had liked him the most. It was no coincidence that she had swindled her way into his life in the bedroom.

She was thinking about him with a smile and wondering if he knew about what had happened. Did he think her dead? Did he care? Her thoughts were interrupted by Varric with another question in his quest to categorize her character. "So I take it you're from the Free Marches..." he led.

She quirked a brow, wondering where he had gleaned that information when her clothes were distinctly Orlesian. "Oh?"

"Accent," he said in answer to her unasked question. "I'm from Kirkwall, but you're from... further east, maybe?"

Cirilla was genuinely impressed. It was not often that an author was so well versed in the real world. "That's quite the ear you have."

"I'm all kinds of impressive," he said with a chuckle.

Cassandra let out a derisive snort and her mark chose then to shock her back to reality. She gasped and shook out the now much less painful pulse. It seemed that since closing that rift and burning off some of the magic, the mark had calmed a bit, allowing her to walk through the pain instead of falling to her knees in agony. "We must hurry before the mark consumes her," Solas said urgently.

To take everyone's mind from the now awkward silence, Varric addressed her again. "So... are you innocent?"

"I don't remember what happened," she said truthfully, seeing no sense in lying now.

"That'll get you every time. Should have spun a story," he advised.

"That's what _you_ would have done," Cassandra accused with a sneer. Cirilla wondered just what the story was between those two. Every time Cassandra said Varric's name it was like she was spitting poison.

"It's more believable, and less prone to result in premature execution," he shrugged just before more demons fell from the sky to interrupt.

When the demons were dead, Cassandra looked around at the mess of corpses all around. "I hope Leliana made it through all this."

"She's resourceful, Seeker," Varric said with compassion, ignoring all of the apparent tension between the two of them to allay another's fears. With that simple act, Cirilla placed Varric on the list of people she actually gave a shit about. It was an extremely short list and she would likely never hear the end of it if Varric ever found out about it's existence or the fact that he was on it.

At the top of the hill they were climbing, they finally came back across the stone road. The gate onto the next section was blocked by another rift. Cirilla helped to kill demons until the shifting crystal shaped itself into the shimmery window and then threw her arm up towards the rift. Her mark reacted again and without the intense pain clouding her mind, she took a moment to reach out and feel the magic. It was strange, foreign, to her mind. Without being a mage, she didn't know what magic was meant to feel like, but as she applied her mind to the mark, she was certain that she could bend the mark to her will. She was adept at controlling her body with an indomitable precision and now the mark was part of her. She prayed the Maker saw fit to allow her to live through this ordeal so she might find the time to experiment and gain control over the magic. The rift snapped closed and soldiers on the other side of the gate cranked the heavy doors open so they could enter. "We are clear for the moment. Well done," Solas praised.

Varric chuckled in agreement. "Whatever that thing on your hand is, it's useful."

They walked into what must have been the forward camp that they had been heading for. It felt like hours since she had been pulled from the darkness of the Chantry dungeon. Ahead, Leliana stood, looking unscathed, beside a man in Chantry robes. He was a chancellor if Cirilla judged his garb correctly. "We must prepare the soldiers," Leliana said loudly.

"We will do no such thing!" the man returned, his tone suggesting he had been arguing the same point for several hours.

"The prisoner must get to the Temple of Sacred Ashes. It is our only chance!" Leliana argued back.

"You have already caused enough trouble without resorting to this exercise in futility," he snapped.

Leliana scoffed, crossing her arms. "_I_ have caused trouble?"

"You, Cassandra, the Most Holy... haven't you all done enough already?" he asked in exasperation.

"You are not in charge here," Leliana said in a mildly threatening tone.

"Enough!" he swiped his hand in finality. "I will not have it!" He looked up from whatever papers he had been studying on the table in front of him and growled. "Ah, here they come." Clearly he was disgusted as he set a scowl on Cirilla.

"You made it!" Leliana said in relief, rounding the table to greet them. "Chancellor Roderick, this is..."

Before Leliana could reveal whether she knew who Cirilla actually was, he cut her off. "I know who she is. As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you," he pointed to Cassandra. "to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution."

" 'Order me'? You are a glorified clerk. A bureaucrat!" Cassandra scoffed.

The Chancellor clapped back. "And you are a thug, but a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry!"

"We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor," Leliana reminded him. "As you well know."

He threw his arms up and gestured wildly. "Justinia is dead! We must elect a replacement, and obey _her_ orders on the matter!"

Cirilla knew a circular argument when she heard it, so she joined in. "Isn't closing the Breach the more pressing issue?"

He turned his angry glare on her. "_You_ brought this on us in the first place!" Cassandra approached him, her hand twitching near her sword hilt. He didn't seem to notice. "Call a retreat, Seeker. Our position here is hopeless."

"We can stop this before it's too late," Cassandra insisted.

"How?" he asked, much more softly than he had been speaking yet. "You won't survive long enough to reach the temple, even with all your soldiers."

"We must get to the Temple," Cassandra argued. "It's the quickest route."

"But not the safest," Leliana interjected calmly. "Our forces can charge as a distraction while we go through the mountains."

Cassandra gasped at the suggestion. "We lost an entire squad on that path. It's too risky."

"Listen to me," the Chancellor pleaded again. "Abandon this now before more lives are lost!"

A loud pop from the Breach had her hand shaking and lifting uncontrollably toward the sky. She grabbed her wrist with her opposite hand and brought the limb under control as the pain slowly subsided. When she looked up, all eyes were on her. "How do _you_ think we should proceed?" Cassandra asked.

Taken back by actually being asked her opinion, Cirilla stepped up and made the choice she would always make given the option. Subterfuge. "Use the mountain path. Work together. You all know what's at stake."

Cassandra nodded and the Chancellor, recovering from jumping at the sound of the Breach glared at them all. As they started toward the path that would lead them away from the forward camp, Cassandra said, "Leliana, bring everyone left in the valley. Everyone."

"On your head be the consequences, Seeker," the Chancellor snarled as they walked out of earshot.

The trek up to the mountain path was treacherous. The snow was deep and slippery. Solas ranged ahead of everyone, using his staff for balance. When they finally reached a ladder that began a series of climbs that led up to the entrance, Solas frowned. Cassandra sent Cirilla first and said, "The tunnel should be just ahead. The path to the temple lies just beyond it."

Cirilla nervously climbed the steep ladders that continued farther and farther up the side of the facility that was carved directly into the stone of the mountain. The wind was treacherous, grabbing at her clothing and trying to rip her from the rungs. The wood was slick beneath her boots from the increasing cold as they got higher and higer up the mountain. She began to hum a soft tune to calm herself and Solas posed a question. "What manner of tunnel is this? A mine?"

"Part of an old mining complex," Cassandra confirmed as Cirilla reached a break in the seemingly endless ladders and followed the wooden path closer to the side of the mountain and around the edge of the facility to another much shorter ladder. "These mountains are full of such paths."

Cirilla had known of their existence, having fiddled with the idea of using them to gain less conspicuous access to the conclave. Varric broke in with his own questioning observation, "And your missing soldiers are in there somewhere?"

"Along with whatever has detained them," Solas pointed out.

Cassandra sighed as she joined Cirilla at the very top of the final ladder so they could circle around to the entrance together. "We shall see soon enough."

The wall to their right was pure mountain side, the stone rough and porous. As they followed the built path to the human carved entrance, there were a pair of lit torches outside on the decoratively arched sides of the tunnel entrance. They pressed inside and Cirilla immediately began to hear the now familiar whispers on the air of demons. They had run into a few different types as they traveled, making Cirilla realize that each new type was a representation of a certain trait. Trying to figure out the types would be on her agenda if she survived the Breach. The change in light from outside to inside was briefly blinding and she pulled her daggers, blinking to forcibly adjust her pupils to the darkness. The air shifted to her right and she slashed with her right hand, obviously making contact with the wispy green demons shaped like floating torsos. Her hand went briefly cold and she continued the assault with her other hand, easily dispatching the demon as sounds of fighting erupted around her. She felt the whisper of Solas' magic and a protective barrier slipped around her as one of the slithering ones like she had first encountered swiped at her with it's sharp claws. She rolled backwards out of it's reach, regaining her footing easily and likely revealing more of her skill. It was inevitable that her identity would be discovered, but she wanted to put it off until Cassandra was no longer looking at her like she wanted her head mounted on the wall.

They dispatched the threats and continued forward through the tunnel. It was warmer inside the mountain, but still cold enough that icicles hung dramatically from the ceiling, and Cirilla was glad to be on solid ground in spite of being beneath all of that stone. They reached the core of the mining facility where the workers quarters had been carved out. They were surrounded by a deep and wide hole that had been mined around them, the walls shimmering with over tapped ore veins. It was a beautiful sight and she found herself peering daringly over the rail and down to see just how far the drop was. She lost light before she saw the bottom.

A few more demons impeded them near the exit back onto the mountain, and Varric chuffed in disappointment at the few mangled corpses strewn just outside the arch on the stone steps. "Guess we found the soldiers."

"That cannot be all of them," Cassandra gasped, her eyes flicking from one body to the next and counting.

"So, the others could be holed up ahead?" Varric guessed with hope in his tone.

Solas interrupted with a cold and pragmatic statement that had Cirilla biting her tongue. "Our priority must be the Breach. Unless we seal it soon, no one is safe."

"I'm leaving that to the lady with the glowing hand," Varric said, backhanding her elbow with a familiarity she didn't feel he had earned, but she tolerated and gave him a brief smile when he winked at her.

As they followed the windswept path down and passed a thick row of tall pine trees, Cirilla caught a glimpse of the spindle of green energy that was swirling from the breach and reaching down to the ground. She assumed it was likely smack dab in the middle of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. They did not have much farther to go. Straight ahead there was a human built stone structure that served as a cliff-side balcony looking down into the valley below. A rift had sprung up on the path just before the structure. It was active, giving them a glimpse into the Fade as they approached. Around the ground under the rift, a peppering of soldiers was engaged with some demons that had manifested from the rift. Cirilla dove right in, slipping easily into the flow of footwork and backstabbing a demon that was raising it's arm to swipe at the back of a nearby woman. With that one dead, she twisted in an arc to stab at the floating green wispy demon who was trying to flank her. When the soldiers realized they had help, the woman she had saved glanced around to see what was happening. "Lady Cassandra!" she gasped in surprise.

Cassandra responded as the rift prepared to expel another wave of demons. "Lieutenant! You're alive!"

"Just barely," the woman agreed, taking a breather as well.

The fresh set of demons had a new kind of facade as well as a nearly crippling terror. They stood eight feet tall on long spindly legs with arms and claws to match. Their featureless faces were broken only by an over-sized 'mouth' that ran from the middle of their face and down their chest, lined with sharp teeth and open wide in a perpetual scream. Cirilla swallowed the fear they stirred in her and went at the nearest one with her daggers. Before she reached it, it bent and pawed at the ground, a swirling green portal opening beneath it like it was pulling open the ground. It sunk into the portal and reappeared across the field to knock a group of soldiers off their feet. Then it threw it's head back and let out a deafening shriek as a strange type of debilitating magic poured from it in waves that snapped the soldiers back to the ground as they were getting to their feet. Cirilla gritted her teeth, thankful to be away from the thing. She drew her arm back and flung her dagger end over end, hitting the demon right where it's throat should be. It fell dead and she jetted across the field to retrieve her weapon as it clattered to the ground when the demon's essence was sucked back into the rift.

A few more demons later, Cirilla ran beneath the rift and drew on the, slowly becoming familiar, feeling that signaled using the mark to close a rift. The green energy arched toward the rift and after the pressure built and snapped, the rift sprung closed, leaving behind a bit of the Fade that dripped like water to the ground and disappeared. "Sealed, as before. You are becoming quite proficient at this," Solas said, likely meaning it as a compliment, but his tone conveying surprise at her competence with the foreign magic.

"Let's hope it works on the big one," Varric mused.

Cassandra was helping the Lieutenant to her feet and the woman sighed. "Thank the Maker you finally arrived, Lady Cassandra. I don't think we could have held out much longer."

Cassandra patted the woman's shoulder and then turned to Cirilla, presenting her with an upturned palm. "Thank our prisoner, Lieutenant. She insisted we come this way."

"The prisoner? Then you...?" the woman gasped.

Cirilla pasted on a smile and waved her marked hand dismissively. "Closing rifts and saving soldiers. It's what I do."

Cirilla couldn't see the returned smile beneath the woman's leather mask, but she could hear it in her voice. "Then you have my sincere gratitude." She offered a fist to her chest in thanks.

"The way into the valley behind us is clear for the moment. Go, while you still can," Cassandra advised.

"At once," the Lieutenant agreed, beckoning the few remaining soldiers to follow her. "Quickly, let's move."

Solas had moved to look down over the ladders that would lead them to the Temple. "The path ahead appears to be clear of demons as well."

"Let's hurry, before that changes," Cassandra insisted, leading them forward.

When they were safely below, Varric finally asked the question that had clearly been bothering him as they started to near the destroyed temple. From what they could see, the temple had indeed been decimated. There was a crater where it had once stood, the surrounding terrain splashed outwards in a ring around the base of the Breach. The rock and rubble had been molded together and was veined with pulsing green tendrils of magic that held the giant jutting spikes in shape. It was something Cirilla had never seen before nor did she wish to be looking at then. "So... holes in the Fade don't just accidentally happen, right?"

"If enough magic is brought to bear, it _is_ possible," Solas said grudgingly.

"But there are easier ways to make things explode," Varric pointed out.

"_That_ is true," Solas agreed with more hostility than Cirilla thought was merited.

"We will consider _how_ this happened once the immediate danger is past," Cassandra interrupted.

When they finally passed into what Cirilla recognized as the room where she had performed her song, the ground had leveled out and they were inside the ring of destruction. She gasped as she looked around at the countless bodies strewn all over. Not a single one remained that was not charred beyond recognition. Some of them still smoked, rivulets of bright red shining from beneath the blackened skin. Most were frozen in the moment of their death, some sprawled on the ground, others kneeling and still more were killed so quickly that they remained standing, the blast of heat and magic anchoring them to their spot. It was horrific and the smell had Cirilla's eyes watering and her stomach churning. She carefully placed her feet as she walked, not wanting to accidentally tread on stray bones or body parts. Ash was still raining from the sky to replace the snow that had built up on her hair. "The Temple of Sacred Ashes," Solas gasped in horror.

"What's left of it," Varric mumbled, being as selective with his footing as she was.

"That is where you walked out of the Fade and our soldiers found you," Cassandra explained. "They say a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was."

They passed down into a hallway that was surprisingly still standing and followed the sharp turn around to come out on the central hall. It was likely that the conclave would have been held in that room if it had ever gotten off the ground. There was a central spire that divided the room and all of the way around the large open space was a balcony. Cirilla looked out over the hall and spotted a gigantic rift that was currently formed into a shifting green crystal. The flow of energy from the Breach found it's bottom in the rift, wisping off in a few other directions, but always wrapping back around itself. "The Breach is a long way up," Varric mumbled as he passed by her, his neck craned upwards toward the sky where the vortex of clouds hummed.

After only a few moments of staring in awe at the catastrophic mess in the sky, Leliana's soft voice broke through the hum. "You're here! Thank the Maker!" Cirilla glanced back at her, but returned her gaze to task as her hand tingled.

"Leliana," Cassandra requested. "Have your men take up positions around the temple." A shuffling told her the request was being heeded. Suddenly, Cassandra stepped directly in front of her. "This is your chance to end this. Are you ready?"

Cirilla looked back up at the impossibly high Breach above them. "I'll try, but I don't know if I can reach that, much less close it."

"No," Solas corrected, pointing at the crackling crystals of the rift below. "This rift was the first, and it is the key. Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach."

There was a lot more maybe in that statement than Cirilla normally allowed, but the circumstances left her with little choice. It seemed it was, give it her best try, or die from inaction. Cassandra seemed as unsatisfied as she was, but the Seeker sighed and glanced between her and Solas. "Then let's find a way down. And be careful."

They followed the balcony around the room, looking for a way down. As more people filtered in, taking up defensive places all around, the rift began to react. A booming voice echoed from everywhere and Cirilla cringed. NOW IS THE HOUR OF OUR VICTORY! BRING FORTH THE SACRIFICE! "What are we hearing?" Cassandra gasped, her hand reaching for her sword as the noise startled her.

As a bard, Cirilla was not required to have perfect pitch, but it was something she was blessed with. As the booming voice spoke and Solas explained that he believed it to be the echo of the person who created the Breach, she picked out another sound. A melodic hum was emanating from around them. She looked around to find the source, and all she saw were bright glowing spikes of crystal emitting a warm and inviting cloud of red fog to match their color. Cirilla had seen rubies before, but these were completely different. She approached one curiously and attempted to prove the song was coming from them. "You know this stuff is Red Lyrium, Seeker," Varric's voice broke the spell of the crystals jutting from between the spikes of rock.

"I see it, Varric," Cassandra spat, her lip curled back in disgust.

"But what's it _doing_ here?" he asked, his eyes slightly wider then normal and the inflection of that particular word making Cirilla realize that what he had written about red lyrium may have been more truthful than she had thought. It did seem to have a mind of it's own, drawing people toward it. She balled her fists and stepped away from the walls to continue after the others.

"Magic could have drawn on lyrium beneath the temple, corrupted it..." Solas guessed.

Varric shuddered. "Ach. It's evil. Whatever you do, don't touch it."

KEEP THE SACRIFICE STILL. The booming voice was calm, but overbearing.

SOMEONE HELP ME! Cirilla recognized the new voice right away and Cassandra confirmed it before she could say a word. "That is Divine Justinia's voice!"

They were finally forced to hop down into the crater that was the center of the room. Cirilla approached the rift and the voices continued.SOMEONE HELP ME! The Divine repeated.

WHAT'S GOING ON HERE? Her own voice shocked Cirilla and Cassandra pounced as the mark flared, excited to be so close to the rift. "That was your voice. Most Holy called out to you. But..."

She was cut short by a crackling of energy and then a strangely surreal magical happening. A bright flash made Cirilla back up and before her, an image of the Divine hung, bound at her outstretched wrists by something they could not see. In front of her was a tall and twisted black figure holding something before it in it's palm. Then she watched herself jog up and say, "Whats going on here?"

"Run while you can! Warn them!" the Divine pleaded, but it was too late.

The black figure spoke quickly. "We have an intruder. Kill her, now!"

As it raised it's arm to point toward Cirilla's figure, the flash came again and all of the phantoms were gone. Solas moved up past her to study the rift while Cassandra badgered her with a string of questions. "You _were_ there! Who attacked? And the Divine, is she...? Was this vision true? What are we seeing?"

Cirilla rounded on the woman and allowed her smiling mask to slip ever so slightly. "I don't remember!" she growled.

"Echoes of what happened here," Solas interrupted. The Fade bleeds into this place. Cassandra left her alone and charged toward Solas to listen to his explanation. "This rift is not sealed, but it _is_ closed... albeit temporarily." He turned and graced them with his attention. "I believe that with the mark, the rift can be opened, and then sealed properly and safely. However, opening the rift will likely attract attention from the other side."

"That means demons. Stand ready!" Cassandra ordered, her voice rising to address the assembled soldiers.

Once everyone was in place, Cassandra gave Cirilla a nod and she approached the rift. She reached for the mark, feeling the flow of energy from it to the rift. Normally, she was closing the rift, but this time she needed to do it backwards. She reached up, directing the magic as best she could and it connected. When opening a rift, the feeling of a great pressure was switched to a sensation that everything was being sucked out of her. She cringed and pressed forward. Finally, the magic severed, snapping the rift open. It was so big that they had a new kind of demon on their hands. It stood two stories tall, lading on the ground with a thump that staggered Cirilla as she backed away to try and think of a strategy. The demon got angry when arrows from the archers on the walls either struck and pierced it's thick hide or bounced off the plated pieces all over it. A great crackling ball of lightning formed between it's hands and with a booming cackle, it grabbed the magic in one hand and turned the ball to a rope that it proceeded to use like an electrified whip.

Cirilla rolled out of the way and wished she had some of her poisons to coat her blades in. That might make this fight easier. She considered her options and finally decided to take Cassandra's course of action. She rushed the thing, getting underneath it and slashed everywhere she could find. It did not have many weak spots, but it did not like when she hit them. Somewhere during the course of the fight, she was knocked off her feet into a gasping pile of jerking limbs when one of it's electrical attacks exploded close enough to do a bit of damage. She dragged herself to her feet and was set upon by a pair of smaller demons that proceeded to chase her around until two meaty thunks had her glancing behind her to see what had happened. They were both dead to bolts to the forehead. Cirilla found Varric and he offered her a brief salute. "You're welcome, Ribbons."

She had yet to give anyone her name, and she supposed that he had to call her something. Ribbons seemed suitable and she grinned before making her way back toward the big purple demon. It seemed like forever before the gigantic demon fell to it's knee and she was able to get a hold of the rift and put her all into pulling it closed.


	2. Maker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cirilla has to ingratiate herself with the people of the Inquisition

The rattling of a door drew Cirilla's attention from her dreams, which had been little more than flashes of strange images that she could barely make out. She slowly blinked her lids open and took a brief account of her surroundings before her eyes landed on an elven girl dressed in servant's clothes. The girl yelped in surprise and dropped the basket she had been carrying. Cirilla sat up quickly, gasping herself and reaching for daggers that weren't there. "I didn't know you were awake, I swear!" the girl stuttered.

Cirilla swallowed her initial reaction and slipped her legs over the side of the bed she was on, nursing a mild throbbing in her head that the quick movement had brought on. "Don't worry about it, I only..."

The girl dropped to her knees and abased herself, her forehead nearly touching the floor. "I beg your forgiveness and your blessing. I am but a humble servant." What in the Maker's name was happening? "You are back in Haven, my lady. They say you saved us." The girl lifted her eyes briefly to glimpse Cirilla's confused expression. "The Breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand. It's all anyone has talked about for the last three days." Three days? Maker... That would explain why her stomach felt like it was turning inside out from hunger.

She sighed and shook her head, reaching up to press fingers to her brow and noticing that the mark remained a blaze of green light on her palm. "So a trial happens now, I suppose?" she wondered aloud as the girl slowly got to her feet and looked puzzled. It was what Cassandra had told her would happen after she agreed to help.

"I don't know anything about that. I'm certain lady Cassandra would want to know you've wakened. She said, 'at once'!" the girl said, slowly creeping backwards toward the door.

"And where is she?" Cirilla asked quickly before the girl could flee.

"In the Chantry, with the Lord Chancellor. 'At once', she said." the girl answered before she turned and ran from the building.

Cirilla sighed again, standing as she got a better look at her surroundings. The girl had fled from a simple wooden door in the front of the one room cabin. The walls and ceiling were also wood and the floor was covered in a smattering of different animal fur rugs. It was rustic and homey, likely having belonged to one of the residents of Haven. The bed was sized for two, and of a typical Ferelden style. A few well placed torches and paintings lined the walls. There was a single window on the opposite side of the room where the bed sat nestled in the corner, blocked in on the side and bottom by small nightstands. The one by the head of the bed was an old barrel atop which sat some medical potions and poultices. The one at the foot had a mug and an untouched bottle of wine. A lute rested against the table. There were a couple of bookshelves on either side of the door and along the windowed wall sat a writing desk and chair, a few more barrels, and a small chest. On one of the barrels, a wash basin sat with a rag beside it, and on the other, a looking glass. A fireplace was squeezed in between the bookshelf and the nightstand at the foot of the bed. She headed for the looking glass, picking it up to get a look at the mess that was her face.

Some healing magic had been used on the previously stitched cuts, but not enough to prevent scars. A long line curved down from near the middle of her forehead, luckily bypassing her right eye-socket and picking back up a bit deeper at the top of her cheek near the outer corner of her eye. On her left side, just beside her nose another mark dragged down and over her lip and barely onto her chin. Her skin was pallid and her midnight blue eyes looked a bit hazy. You'd never believe she had been asleep for three days. The wash basin seemed unnecessary, as she was dressed in clean clothes and her hair was shiny as if it had been recently washed. She set the mirror down and moved to the hanging shelf above the writing desk that had a few simple tools for doing makeup. She picked out a few things to cover her complexion, but not detract from her freckles, and then she winged her eyes with khol and put a light color on her lips.

Her next step was clothes. The basket that the servant had dropped still sat in the middle of the floor abandoned, and Cirilla moved to pick through the linens. She found her own clothes folded neatly along with a few other sets of gear that seemed to be her size. She mixed and matched, keeping her nearly silent boots that were both practical and fashionable, slipping on a pair of heavy bearskin pants to keep away the cold, and finding a long sleeved, fitted tunic made of dyed lambswool that she covered with her long black coat with the hidden slots for as many throwing knives and hidden daggers as she could carry. She left her hood down and tied the cloth she used to hide her face loosely at her neck.

She had given the servant ample time to report that she had woken, but no one had come to collect her yet. With a sigh as she gathered herself, made certain everything was in place and headed for the unlocked door. What struck her was that she didn't seem to be a prisoner anymore. Had her cooperation earned her freedom? The only way to find out was to go to the Chantry and find Cassandra. When she pulled open the door, she thanked the Maker that she had been well schooled in hiding her expression at all times. She calmly ignored the gathering outside her cabin as she pulled the door closed behind her and headed down the stairs toward the path that would take her up to the Chantry from where she was. Even had she not memorized the paths as they left Haven days ago, she would have been able to find her way. The people all stood along the road, craning their necks to get a good look at her. She was glad she had taken the time to perfect herself. A bard always looked their best. She kept a neutral expression even as people whispered about what she had done at the Breach. Some was positive, and others not so impressed. When she finally reached the Chantry doors, she retreated into the dark and quiet sanctuary. Cirilla did not much prefer to be anywhere near the Chantry, the organization as corrupt as any organization in Thedas. Just because they claimed to work for the Maker didn't mean they were in it for anything but themselves. Eternity be damned. She didn't need a Chantry to tell her what she believed.

Still, the building was comforting. The Chant had been sung so many times in these halls that Cirilla imagined she could hear the familiar words echoing off the stone walls. She closed her eyes and followed her feet toward the rear of the Chantry, her serenity soon interrupted by a heated argument that bounced around in a place that such harsh tones should be muted. _Have you gone completely mad?_ She recognized the Chancellor's voice and she paused, wanting to hear a preview of what she might be in for once she entered that room. _She should be taken to Val Royeaux immediately, to be tried by whomever becomes Divine!_

Cassandra responded, the sneer on her face obvious in her voice. _I do not believe she is guilty._

_The prisoner failed, Seeker. The Breach is still in the sky. For all you know, she intended it this way!_ Roderick grunted.

_I do not believe that,_ Cassandra insisted.

_That is not for you to decide. Your duty is to serve the Chantry._

_My duty is to serve the principles on which the Chantry was founded, Chancellor. As is yours._

Cirilla sighed and made certain she still held her neutral expression before pushing through the door into the room. The first thing she noted was the pair of templars posted on either side of the door. Once she was aware of the threat, she allowed her eyes to scan the rest of the room. It was small, bookshelves lining the back of the room. To her left and right on the walls, statues of Andraste were carved into alcoves. In the middle of the room, there were two wooden tables pushed together with a few papers strewn across the surfaces. Cassandra and Leliana stood on the other side of the table looking irritated. And Chancellor Roderick, standing on the left hand side of the table pounced as soon as the door clicked open. "Chain her! I want her prepared for travel to the capital for trial!"

Cirilla narrowed her eyes, but did not flinch. When the templars did not move, Cassandra quickly dismissed them. "Disregard that, and leave us."

As they saluted and left, closing the door behind them, the Chancellor glared at Cassandra. "You walk a dangerous line, Seeker."

Cassandra approached him, ignoring Cirilla in favor of continuing their argument. "The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat. I will not ignore it."

Cirilla closed her fist around the mark that was still on her palm. "Let me guess... You need my help."

"_You_ have done plenty!" Roderick accused with a sneer. "Your actions will be taken into account by the new Divine."

"Have a care, Chancellor," Cassandra warned. "The Breach is not the only threat we face."

Leliana moved closer to the squabbling pair. "Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave. Someone Most Holy did not expect. Perhaps they died with the others... or have allies who yet live."

The accusation was so blatant that even the Chancellor picked up on it when Leliana set suspicious eyes on him. "_I_ am a suspect?" he gasped in shock.

"_You_," she confirmed shortly. "And many others."

"But _not_ the prisoner?" Roderick stammered his eyes widening at being considered.

"I heard the voices in the temple," Cassandra pointed out. "The Divine called to her for help."

"So her survival, that _thing_ on her hand... all a coincidence?" Roderick said skeptically.

"Providence," Cassandra corrected. "The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour."

" 'Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide'," Cirilla quoted, almost automatically. Everything happened for a reason. Perhaps she had been in the right place at the right time. She had nothing to do with the mage-templar war. Why else should she have been there?

Cassandra hung her head in sadness. "We lost everything... Then, out of nowhere, you came."

She turned toward one of the bookshelves in the rear of the room and Leliana smiled at Cirilla. "The Breach remains, and your mark is still our only hope of closing it."

"This is _not_ for you to decide!" Roderick fumed.

His bluster was weakened by Cassandra slamming a thick book down on the table in front of him. The slam of leather on wood echoed loudly in the closed room followed by Cassandra's voice. "Do you know what this is, Chancellor?" Without giving him a chance to respond, she bullied forward. "A writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act. As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn." She bore down on him, jabbing her finger into his chest with each declaration. "We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order. With or without your approval!"

Her aggression had him glaring at them all one final time before leaving the room and slamming the door behind him. Leliana ran a reverent hand over the book which bore the sunburst on it's cover and Cassandra rubbed nervously at her hair before waving a dismissive hand toward where the Chancellor had retreated. Leliana sighed. "This is the Divine's directive. Rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who will stand against the chaos. We aren't ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now, no Chantry support."

"But we have no choice," Cassandra sighed as well. "We must act now." She turned to Cirilla. "With you at our side."

Quickly schooling her expression, she widened her eyes in shock instead of narrowing them in suspicion. Of course her mark was important in closing the Breach, but why was she automatically signed up to be a part of this Inquisition? She took a split second to answer in a manner that conveyed that she had every intention of cooperating. "If you're truly trying to restore order..." She was actually quite invested in slipping a dagger across the throat of whoever had killed the Divine. She had genuinely liked the woman for the brief time she spoke to her.

"That is the plan..." Leliana encouraged with a nod.

"Help us fix this before it's too late," Cassandra asked of her again.

With one last flick of her eyes between the two of them, Cirilla nodded and cracked a smile, hoping that in her current state it would be believable. Cassandra seemed to buy it, reaching out and shaking Cirilla's hand with her own smile.

Having survived the initiation, Cirilla attempted to slip away from the small room, but Leliana caught up with her down the hall of the Chantry. "It occurs to me that we do not know anything about you."

Cirilla inwardly flinched while outwardly smiling. "I am an open book."

Leliana's chuckle was like a tinkling bell. Sweet and genuinely amused. "I do not doubt that a bard of your skill would be able to convince everyone here that was the truth."

Cirilla shrugged. She had wondered if Leliana had figured her out. "It seems to have worked for you."

Leliana clasped her hands behind her back and matched Cirilla's strolling pace. "It is much harder to remain anonymous when your name is as well known as mine. I have a feeling in the months to come you may face the same roadblocks in your career."

"Not if you don't tell everyone," Cirilla pointed out.

Leliana hummed and nodded, a slight smirk curling her lip upwards. "It might be fun to discover on my own who you really are. I will consider it a challenge, then, my lady."

Cirilla matched the smirk. "In the meantime, you can call me Ciri."

"There is much to be done. I suggest you take some time to relax before you will be needed again," Leliana said with a nod.

Cirilla nodded as well, and continued out of the Chantry into the sunlight. It was no longer overcast as it had been then she'd left the dungeon. The sun was out and some of the snow on the paths through the village had melted away. After heading to the Tavern and getting a much needed meal from a soft spoken young woman named Flissa, she moved through the damp streets, smiling and ingratiating herself with the villagers. She promised the quartermaster she had met, Threnn, that she would help out as best she could by marking down promising places to mine and log. She also promised the apothecary, Adan, that she would collect clippings for him from wherever she traveled. She visited the blacksmith, Harritt, and made him a very happy man by purchasing all of the throwing knives he had and putting in an order for a new pair of daggers. As she walked back through the village, looking for any other ways to make herself useful, she spotted Varric sitting by a fire between two small tents. The camping equipment was a regular thing in the village and outside the gates. Haven was not a large village and they had taken every bit of extra room and thrown up tents to house all of the soldiers and pilgrims flocking in as news spread.

She headed for Varric and he glanced up when her shadow blocked the light he was using to lovingly rub oil on Bianca's joints. He set aside his work and scanned the area before speaking. "So, now that Cassandra's out of earshot, are you holding up all right? I mean you go from being the most wanted criminal in Thedas to joining the armies of the faithful. Most people would have spread that out over more than one day."

"It's not so bad," she said with a shrug, trying her best to sound like she was not phased. "I'm taking it in my stride."

Varric lifted a brow and harrumphed. "Better than most of us, then. For days now, we've been staring at the Breach, watching demons and Maker-knows-what fall out of it. 'Bad for morale' would be an understatement. I still can't believe anyone was in there and lived."

She gestured to a short stool beside his and he nodded. She moved and sat, resting her elbows on her knees, the picture of casual. "If it was that bad, why did you stay? Cassandra said you were free to go." She pulled one of her hidden daggers from her wrist and began to twirl it in her fingers, a deliberate move to make him believe she was more nervous than she let on.

"I like to think I'm as selfish and irresponsible as the next guy, but this... Thousands of people died on that mountain. I was almost one of them, and now there's a hole in the sky. Even I can't walk away and just leave that to sort itself out."

She nodded in agreement. "It's pure luck that I escaped."

He smirked. "Good luck or bad? You might want to consider running at the first opportunity. I've written enough tragedies to recognize where this is going. Heroes are everywhere. I've seen that. But the hole in the sky? That's beyond heroes. We're going to need a miracle."

She allowed herself a smile, recognizing that she had read Varric correctly. He was a reluctant bleeding heart. As much as he might complain, or pretend it didn't matter, he was concerned. She allowed him a moment and he picked Bianca back up to resume his work. "You're an author? What kind of books have you written?" She knew very well who he was, but he didn't know she knew. If she ever wanted to be a bard again, she could not let too many people find out who she truly was.

His brows rose in minor shock and he chuckled. "I've tried my hand at a few genres. My crime serials are my most popular. _Hard in Hightown._ Guards breaking the rules to get things done. _The Tale of the Champion_ is the most famous thing I've written. Or infamous, maybe. I started a romance serial once. _Swords and Shields_. But to be honest, I don't have the knack for romances. Most of my stories end in tragedy. Probably that says something unfortunate about me personally."

She smiled at his quip and shrugged, still twirling her knife. "Maybe you could get me a copy of some of your books so I can catch up."

"I'll even sign them for you, Ribbons," he chuckled. Then he looked her up and down. "So, now you know a little bit about me, what about you?"

She shrugged and slipped her knife away. "There isn't much to know. I'm from the Free Marches, as you so astutely deducted by listening to me speak. Ostwick specifically." She held up her mark. "Divinely touched, apparently... I'm good with knives."

"That. I've noticed. Hence the nickname," Varric chuckled.

"Yes, I get it," she said with her own chuckle. "It's quite clever."

"That's me... clever," he agreed.

They chatted until it neared dusk and a servant found her. "My lady, Seeker Cassandra asked to see you in the Chantry." Cirilla gave Varric an amiable pat on the shoulder as she stood and promised to buy him drinks next time.

Cassandra met her just outside the Chantry and they headed inside together. Cirilla flexed her palm, glancing down at the tingling mark. "Does it trouble you?" Cassandra asked, stopping their forward momentum.

"It's stopped spreading, and it doesn't _hurt_," Cirilla explained, rubbing her palm on her thigh.

Cassandra took note of her discomfort and nodded her head slightly. "We take our victories where we can. What's important is that your mark is now stable. As is the Breach. You've given us time, and Solas believes a second attempt might succeed... provided the mark has more power. The same level of power used to open the Breach in the first place. That is not easy to come by."

Cirilla found herself snorting in amusement as her heart simultaneously began to race in concern. "What harm can there be in powering up something we barely understand?"

Cirilla swore that Cassandra almost laughed. "Hold on to that sense of humor," she said with a grin before beckoning Cirilla to follow.

In the same room they had met in before, There were a few new additions, the least of which was the pinned down set of maps of Southern Thedas on the pair of tables, held down with various and sundry items at the corners. One of which was Cassandra's Chantry book in the corner closest to where Leliana stood on Cirilla's left. There were also new faces. Beside Leliana was a tall blonde man with light stubble on his jaw and a crooked, sardonic smile beneath a set of deeply intense amber eyes. His hair was combed back from his face, falling in gentle waves. He wore a deep red wrap topped with a brown fur mantle, bits of it dyed red to match the fabric and edged with a thin yellow seam. The garment concealed most of his upper body, only a brown hide gambeson peeking out on his arms from beneath his shiny metal pauldrons and gauntlets which were etched with a sword of mercy down his forearm. His curiass was equally as polished. A sword rode his hip and his casual stance repeated the expression on his face. His hands were both draped over the hilt of the sword. It was an over compensation if she ever saw one. Something about him was deeply troubled.

On her right was a primped and polished politician that Cirilla could have spotted a mile away. She was all smiles as Cirilla took her in, her light brown eyes sparkling. Her skin was the color of milk chocolate and her hair, done up in a very Orlesian style, was black. She wore a heavily ruffled top that flared out from her waist over top of a pair of matching pants and boots like tassets on a rogue's armor. The entire ensemble was dyed blue and gold. She held a stack of papers on a thin piece of wood for support that sported an angled top where a inkwell and candle rested so she could work from just about anywhere. A quill was poised daintily between her fingers on her right hand.

Cassandra cleared her throat and glanced at Cirilla."May I present, Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition's forces."

The man straightened as he dipped his head respectfully. "Such as they are. We lost many soldiers in the valley, and I fear many more before this is through." His voice was deep and soft at the same time. The scar on his lip caught Cirilla's eye and it reminded her that she had a few of those of her own now.

Cassandra continued. "This is Lady Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador and chief diplomat."

The dark skinned woman continued to smile as Cirilla caught her eyes again. "I've heard much. It's a pleasure to meet you at last." She spoke in a polite and careful tone, her accent and surname marking her as Antivan.

"And of course you know Sister Leliana," Cassandra breezed.

"My position here involves a degree of..." Leliana began.

"She is our spymaster," Cassandra said, not bothering to mince words.

"Yes," Leliana said with a bit of annoyance as she swayed her hips, her hands clasped behind her back. Just like Cullen's relaxed stance and Josephine's smile, Leliana's swaying was a clue. "Tactfully put, Cassandra."

"Pleased to meet you all," Cirilla responded, making certain that she was not giving them anything to read about her like they had for her. At least two others in the room were Game players. She needed to be careful.

Cassandra was oblivious to the sheer amount of character weighing that was happening in the small room and continued to go about business. "I mentioned that your mark needs more power to close the Breach for good."

"Which means we must approach the rebel mages for help," Leliana added.

Cullen grunted. "I still disagree. The templars could serve just as well."

"We need power, Commander. Enough magic poured into that mark..." Cassandra attempted.

"Might destroy us all," Cullen protested with a swipe of his hand. "Templars could suppress the Breach, weaken it so..."

"Pure speculation," Leliana scoffed.

"_I_ was a templar. I know what they're capable of," Cullen said softly, his tone almost angry. That explained the templar symbol etched in his gauntlets.

"Unfortunately, neither group will even speak to us yet," Josephine interrupted. "The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition... and you, specifically," she pointed the tip of her quill at Cirilla.

"They still think I'm guilty," Cirilla sighed with acceptance. She had gotten used to disappointment from the Chantry.

Her lips pressed together and then she said, "That is not the entirety of it any longer. Some are calling you the 'Herald of Andraste', and that frightens the Chantry. The remaining clerics have called it blasphemy, and we heretics for harboring you."

As Cirilla tried and failed to school her face against the shock of the title, Cassandra scoffed. "Chancellor Roderick's doing, no doubt."

"It limits our options. Approaching the mages or templars for help is currently out of the question," Josephine added.

Cirilla swallowed and held up a palm. "Just how am _I_ the 'Herald of Andraste'?"

"People saw what you did at the temple," Cassandra explained. "how you stopped the Breach from growing. They have also heard about the woman seen in the rift when we first found you. They believe that was Andraste."

"Even if we tried to stop that view from spreading..." Leliana added.

"Which we have not," Cassandra interrupted, drawing another irritated glance from Leliana.

"The point is, everyone is talking about you."

Could that be why she could not remember what had happened? Why she had survived above everyone else? What of the Divine? Was she more worthy of being touched than the Most Holy? She felt her carefully laid mask slipping as she glanced down at her marked hand and bit her lip. Her thoughts were interrupted by Cullen's voice. "It's quite the title, isn't it? How do you feel about that?"

She snapped back to attention, slamming her mask back into place. "I don't mind it at all." Perhaps the title would keep people from trying to figure out her real name if they had something to call her.

"People are desperate for a sign of hope," Leliana said gently. "For some, you're that sign."

"And to others, a symbol of everything that's gone wrong," Josephine said.

"They aren't more concerned about the Breach? The real threat?" Cirilla wondered. She knew for her, some random person claiming to be divinely touched would pale in comparison to a giant hole in the sky spitting out demons.

"They do know it's a threat," Cullen corrected. "They just don't think _we_ can stop it."

"The Chantry is telling everyone you'll make it worse," Josephine explained.

"There is something you can do," Leliana piped up with a chipper smile. "A Chantry cleric by the name of Mother Giselle has asked to speak to you. She is not far, and knows those involved far better than I. Her assistance could be invaluable."

Cirilla nodded in agreement. "I'll see what she has to say."

"You will find Mother Giselle tending the wounded in the Hinterlands near Redcliffe," described Leliana.

Redcliffe was the village where she had brought Beirand before going to the Conclave. She hoped he was safe. Anselmo would not be pleased if his nephew were killed after she had promised to protect him. Cullen added his own request of her. "Look for other opportunities to expand the Inquisition's influence while you are there."

Josephine nodded, gesturing to Cirilla's marked hand. "We need agents to extend our reach beyond this valley, and you're better suited than anyone to recruit them."

Cassandra agreed. "In the meantime, let's think of other options. I won't leave this all to the Herald." Cirilla wondered if her reasons were based upon pity for the amount of responsibility heaped on the 'Herald's' shoulders, or if she still did not trust her. There would be plenty of time to figure that out later. For now, she was being dismissed. With a nod, she took her leave and headed back out of the Chantry.

The sun had set while she met with the leadership and she was hungry again. She headed off toward the tavern, passing the apothecary and a pair of small houses like the one she had woke up in. Leaning against a stone half wall and studying his staff was Solas. She attempted to quietly skirt him, but the elf had impeccable hearing, looking up to regard her with a haughty grin. When he spoke, it was with sarcasm. "The chosen of Andraste, a blessed hero sent to save us all."

Her eyes narrowed of their own accord. "I've no interest in being a hero. All I want is to find a way to seal this Breach."

His smirk seemed to fade, but he continued the conversation. "Pragmatic, but ultimately irrelevant." He set his staff to the side and moved away from the wall. "I have journeyed deep into the Fade in ancient ruins and battlefields to see the dreams of lost civilizations. I've watched as spirits clashed to reenact the bloody past in ancient wars both famous and forgotten. Every great war has it's heroes. I'm just curious what kind _you'll_ be."

Cirilla ignored the jab in his tone and tipped her head. The number one rule to figuring out what exactly irked her about a person was to find out everything she could about them. Something about Solas screamed _liar_. "What do you mean, ruins and battlefields?"

"Any building strong enough to withstand the rigors of time has a history. Every battlefield is steeped in death. Both attract spirits. They press against the Veil, weakening the barrier between our worlds. When I dream in such places, I go deep into the Fade. I can find memories no other living being has ever seen," he explained, taking her question for curiosity.

She allowed him his belief and egged it on. "You fall asleep in the middle of ancient ruins? Isn't that dangerous?" she asked with a chuckle.

He smirked. "I _do_ set wards. And if you leave food out for the giant spiders, they are usually content to live and let live."

"I've never heard of anyone going so far into the Fade. That's extraordinary," she said, mockingly impressed, fluffing his ego.

"Thank you. It's not a common field of study, for obvious reasons. Not so flashy as throwing fire or lightning. The thrill of finding remnants of a thousand-year-old dream? I would not trade it for anything," he said passionately. Then he seemed to ponder for a moment and looked away toward the Breach. "I will stay then, at least until the Breach has been closed."

"Was that in doubt?" she wondered.

"I am an apostate surrounded by Chantry forces in the middle of a mage rebellion. Cassandra has been accommodating, but you understand my caution."

She scoffed. "Cassandra trusts you. She won't let anyone put you into a Circle against your will." If she didn't trust him, he likely would have been trussed up already. Cassandra did not seem the forgiving type.

"Thank you. I appreciate the thought," he said with a small smile. "For now, let us hope either the mages or the templars have the power to seal the Breach."

He was certainly well informed. She took her leave and continued on to the tavern.

Cirilla had spent the evening in her cabin, trying and failing to find the right words to put to paper and send to Anselmo. She had no news about Beirand, and she was likely thought dead with everyone else. If she was blunt, Leliana would most definitely intercept anything she sent out and all of her secrecy would be for naught. If she were cagey, Anselmo was likely to shout 'betrayal' and she would be dealing with either Crows or representatives from the House of Repose.

After finally giving up, she pushed the blank parchments to the back of the tiny desk and stood. Eyeing the lute, she crossed the room and took it up, sitting on the edge of the bed and gently strumming the strings to check if it was tuned. After a few adjustments, she began to pluck a gentle tune and softly sing a few chords to one of her favorite songs. _The Girl In Red Crossing. _Soon, her own song had her lids drooping, so she put the lute aside and collapsed onto the bed. Before going to sleep, she was forced to get up and found a pair of gloves among the linens from the basket, that she had moved from the middle of the floor, and slipped the left one on over the glowing mark.

Cassandra had them setting off at the crack of dawn, dragging Varric and Solas with them. Varric, Cirilla didn't mind. Solas, she was wishing they could have left behind. She kept to the rear of the party, assessing the dynamic of the group. Cassandra and Varric kept away from each other for the most part unless forced to interact. Solas had taken Cirilla's faked civility to heart, taking every chance as they made camp each night to talk to her over the campfire about his journeys in the Fade. His views on things were certainly different from anyone she had ever met, but she still did not trust him as far as Cassandra could throw him.

When they finally reached the Hinterlands after about a week, there was already an established Inquisition camp on a cliff overlooking the minuscule village named the Crossroads. A few scouts ambled around the camp and one approached them with a wide grin. She was perky and freckled, with lighter red hair (almost light brown) than Cirilla's own, and friendly pale green eyes. The dwarf spoke casually but clearly. "The Herald of Andraste! I've heard the stories. Everyone has. We know what you did at the Breach. It's an honor to meet you, my lady. Inquisition Scout Harding, at your service. I... all of us here... we'll do whatever we can to help."

"Harding, huh?" Varric asked with a gleam in his eye. "Ever been to Kirkwall's Hightown?"

With her smile still in place, she responded. "I can't say I have, why?"

"You'd be Harding in... Oh, never mind." The joke fell on one of Cassandra's patented disgusted noises before he could finish.

Cirilla, who had been 'reading' the book he had given her each night after Solas finished nearly talking her to sleep, stifled her chuckle and cleared her throat when Cassandra narrowed her eyes at her, daring her to encourage Varric's nonsense. "I'm starting to worry about these 'stories' everyone's heard."

Harding responded dryly. "Oh, there's nothing to worry about. They only say you're the last great hope for Thedas."

"Oh, wonderful..." Cirilla snarked with a roll of her eyes. Playing the part of charming nobody seemed to be getting her far, so she clung to it.

"The Hinterlands are as good a place as any to start fixing things," Harding continued. "We came to secure horses from Redcliffe's old horsemaster. I grew up here, and people always said that Dennet's herds were the strongest and fastest this side of the Frostbacks. But with the mage-templar fighting getting worse, we couldn't get to Dennet. Maker only knows if he's still alive. Mother Giselle is at the Crossroads helping refugees and the wounded. Our latest reports say that the war's spread there, too. Corporal Vale and our men are doing what they can to help protect the people, but they won't be able to hold out very long. You best get going. No time to lose."

The report was extremely informative and Cirilla took the advice to heart. If the war was happening below at the Crossroads, they needed to get down there and make sure that Mother Giselle was safe. She thanked Harding and her small group headed down around the path off the cliff. When they came upon the village, it was indeed nearly overrun by both mages and templars indiscriminately fighting anyone in sight. It was chaos. Both Cassandra and Solas attempted to shout the fighters into submission, but after almost being hit by two fireballs and nearly stepping on an ice mine, Cirilla dodged the swipe of a templar's sword and started dipping low to disable. The typical move was useless against templars because of the slight dip in their shields that helped prevent splash damage from spells aimed toward the ground in front of them. She noted the stance on every shielded enemy, and adjusted accordingly. Using her talents, she drew herself into the shadows, humming to herself. It felt good to be back in action, her body moving easily as she slipped around the enemy's guard and sliced from the rear.

The world closed in around her, nothing existing except the fight and her own mind. Words began to accompany her humming as her feet followed every twist of her waist and swipe of her daggers. A few of her throwing knives found targets across the field and she noted where the men fell so she could retrieve the knives. They were poisoned and it wasn't safe to leave them sticking out of corpses for Inquisition servants to pick up and possibly come in contact with. Her daggers were slicked with poison as well. She had spent her free time on the road mixing the ingredients that she kept tucked safely away in a pouch inside her coat. Deathroot, toxin extract, lifestones, corrupter agent... all essential ingredients in a bard's collection. She wished she could find a source of demonic ichor, but that was not easy to come by. Anselmo had truly spoiled her.

When the fight was over, she immediately collected her knives and was approached by thankful Inquisition agents who saluted her and pointed her to Mother Giselle. The others left her to approach the woman who was calming a soldier afraid of the mages spread throughout the makeshift infirmary that was strewn around outside a large house. Cots dotted the property, most full of the injured and dying. Cirilla listened as Giselle assured the soldier 'Turned to noble purpose, their magic is surely no more evil than your blade.' It was a nice sentiment.

"Mother Giselle?" Cirilla confirmed as the woman stood from her crouch when the man calmed down. She was dark skinned beneath her white and red robes, her matching hat concealing her hair. Her lips were large and protruded outwards. The expression behind her brown eyes was kind but closed off. It seemed to be a common expression among the clerics she had met.

"I am. And you must be the one they are calling the Herald of Andraste," Giselle responded in her very thick Orlesian accent.

Cirilla responded with a subtle nod and a light smile. "I'm told you asked for me."

Giselle began to move them away from prying ears and beckoned Cirilla follow. "I know of the Chantry's denouncement, and I'm familiar with those behind it. I won't lie to you. Some of them are grandstanding, hoping to increase their chances of becoming the new Divine. Some are simply terrified. So many good people, senselessly taken from us..." she hung her head, her eyes closing briefly, likely in a silent prayer for the dead.

"But don't you stand with the rest of the Chantry?" Cirilla asked, giving her the moment.

"With no Divine, we are each left to our own conscience... and mine tells me this. Go to them. Convince the remaining clerics you are no demon to be feared. They have heard only frightful tales of you. Give them something else to believe."

"You want me to appeal to them?" Cirilla asked skeptically. That was a long shot if anyone recognized her.

"If I thought you were incapable, I wouldn't suggest it," Giselle pointed out.

"Will they even listen?" Cirilla wondered.

Giselle smirked. "Let me put it this way. You needn't convince them all. You just need some of them to _doubt_. Their power is their unified voice. Take that from them, and you receive the time you need."

Cirilla chuckled softly, knowing that she was capable, but she mustn't give up all her skills just yet. "You make it sound simple."

"I honestly don't know if you've been touched by fate or sent to help us... but I hope. Hope is what we need now. The people will listen to your rallying call, as they will listen to no other. You could build the Inquisition into a force that will deliver us... or destroy us." She paused and gave Cirilla a thorough scan with narrowed eyes. "I will go to Haven and provide Sister Leliana the names of those in the Chantry who would be amenable to a gathering. It is not much, but I will do whatever I can." With a comforting pat to Cirilla's shoulder, Giselle headed inside a nearby hut, likely to gather her belongings and set off for Haven as she had promised.

The Hinterlands were a mess. After talking with Corporal Vale, they were informed that both the mages and the templars had hidden strongholds in unknown places off the beaten path. The people residing at the Crossroads were in dire need of help. With everything happening and all of the violence in the places between villages, they were without a lot of supplies and food for basic survival. The horsemaster that Harding had mentioned was cut off from the Crossroads by miles of dangerous road. Along with the mages and templars that continuously sprung up little battles along the King's road and in the woods, there was the odd demon or two that slithered from the rifts cracking open all over the area.

Cirilla took the reports and mentally mapped out her issues in a large circle surrounding the Crossroads. With small tidbits of information she found on the bodies of some of the slain mages and templars, they were able to find where each group was hiding. The mages had taken over a cave in the woods, aptly named Witchwood, close to Redcliffe village. The templars were camped much farther south on the other side of the King's Road by a waterfall that trickled into a narrow river. Once they had both been dealt with, Cirilla took the time to hunt down some rams and deliver the meat to the Crossroads, as well as find hidden caches of supplies like blankets and coats that were much needed for the cold of the approaching winter. Redcliffe itself was closed off, but to the west, they discovered Master Dennet holding the farm lands together. He promised them horses if she would help take care of some issues and seal the rifts between him and Haven. A few dead demons later and a letter to Cullen asking him to send workers to build watchtowers that would help protect the farmers, she left with some horses for her small party as well as a promise of more on the way with Dennet himself in a few weeks time.

The night before they were going to head back to Haven, Cirilla sat down with Cassandra as the woman glared stoically into the fire, poking at it with a stick. She received a glare for her trouble, answering it with a teasing smirk. She had quickly come to realize that the best way to get on Cassandra's good side was to figuratively poke her with a stick, so each night when they had a moment, she would find a way to strike up a conversation with that in mind. Cassandra had made it clear that the story surrounding her being named right hand of the Divine was one that had been blown out of proportion. Cirilla was curious. She loved stories, and if Cassandra hated telling the story, she would get it out of her. Cassandra rolled her eyes, having caught on to Cirilla's nightly routine. "So," Cirilla said leadingly. "What's the story about you becoming the right hand?"

Cassandra grunted and sighed. She had apparently assumed that Cirilla had meant to drop the subject when she had not asked the previous time it had been brought up. "Sweet Andraste, do you really want to hear that?" She dropped her stick and brushed her hands together. "It was, what... eighteen, twenty years ago? Some still discuss it like it happened yesterday. The tale gets bigger each time it's told. I barely recognize myself within it now."

"I'm sure you're just being modest," Cirilla insisted.

Cassandra snorted. "I was there. I think I know what happened." With another roll of her eyes, she launched grudgingly into the story. "To hear others tell it, I alone saved Divine Beatrix from a horde of dragons sent to assault the Grand Cathedral. Rather impressive for such a young Seeker, wouldn't you say?"

"And the truth is...?" Cirilla prodded.

"I stumbled upon a conspiracy to kill Beatrix. A templar Knight-Commander was at it's heart. And there _was_ a dragon battle at the Grand Cathedral, but I had help from loyal mages who rallied to the cause. They freed the dragons from magical control. Without them, the Divine and I would both have died. Yet I became the right hand, and they are forgotten."

"What happened to the mages that helped you?" Cirilla asked.

"They went back to their Circles, with rewards and privileges and Most Holy's gratitude. Many of them died at the Conclave."

The way she told the story, hating every second of it made Cirilla grin. "You're delightful, you know that?"

Cassandra balked, sputtering and then glared. "No, I do not know that."

Cirilla tried and failed to stifle an even wider smile and a chuckle. "Mm-Hmm."

"I object! There is nothing 'delightful' about me," she nearly shouted, her voice rising an octave.

"I beg to differ," Cirilla said, the chuckle under-toning her statement.

Cassandra sighed heavily, realizing Cirilla was teasing. "I think I preferred you in the stocks."

Cirilla stood, patting Cassandra's shoulder and continuing to chuckle. It was a bard's job to gather information about those around her. Some were easier to glean from, Varric a literal open book, and Solas always had a story. Cassandra was a bit tougher. When Cirilla returned to Haven she was going to need to make a few rounds of the people in the inner circle. She had found flirtation was the best way to get people to open up, no matter their orientation. When someone like Cirilla smiled at you in just the right way, people tended to melt.

Cassandra rushed them back to Haven as she had rushed them to the Hinterlands. She was certainly driven, banging her head against every problem she saw. Cirilla soon found that Cullen was much the same. In the war room meetings that Cassandra insisted she attend, they would often 'discuss' things that needed to be done and how to handle each particular problem. Circularly argue without compromise was more like what actually happened. Typical to their duties, Josephine often vied for a peaceful solution or a well placed ambassador, Leliana thought eliminating everyone in her way without anyone knowing it was her was best, and poor sweet Cullen was convinced that he could punch every problem into submission with enough soldiers. They were going to need a mediator before this war was over or nothing would ever get done. Cirilla sat back most of the time simply listening and calculating her own solutions based on what she knew of those involved, if anything at all.

She trudged out of one such meeting, looking to get some relaxation in before what was to be done about the clerics was decided. Deciding on taking a walk, she headed out of the main gates to pass through the rows of tents that were a makeshift barracks. She heard a grunting coupled with a sword colliding with wood and straw. She hunted down the familiar voice and watched Cassandra tearing into one of the practice dummies with a sour look on her face. Cirilla chuckled as the dummy fell over, it's straw guts spraying out to join the light snow flurries falling through the air. "You're kind of a force of nature, aren't you?"

"When I need to be," she responded with a glare, moving on to the next dummy.

"It's impressive," Cirilla prodded.

"You flatter me," Cassandra grunted with a shocked expression.

"I'm trying," Cirilla agreed more to herself than to Cassandra as she moved closer, but staying out of range of the twirling sword.

"Did I do the right thing?" Cassandra asked out of the blue. "What I have set in motion here could destroy everything I have revered my whole life. One day, they may write about me as a traitor, a madwoman, a fool. And they may be right."

Being an Andrastian herself, Cirilla offered a soft tone and a genuine smile. "What does your faith tell you?"

"I believe you are innocent. I believe more is going on here than we can see. And I believe no one else cares to do anything about it. They will stand in the fire and complain that it is hot. But is this the Maker's will? I can only guess."

"You don't think I'm the Herald of Andraste?" Cirilla wondered. Cassandra had promoted the idea, but never given her opinion.

"I think you were sent to help us. I hope you were. But the Maker's help takes many forms. Sometimes it is difficult to discern who it truly benefits, or how," Cassandra explained, rolling her shoulders and resetting her footing.

"What's going to happen now?"

Cassandra looked her over with raised brows. "Now we deal with the Chantry's panic over you before they do even more harm. Then we close the Breach. We are the only ones who can. After that, we find out who is responsible for this chaos, and we end them. And if there are consequences to be paid for what I have done, I pay them. I only pray the price is not too high."

"You didn't have any choice," Cirilla reminded her.

"Didn't I?" Cassandra countered. Then she sighed, dropping her sword with a clatter. "My trainers always said, 'Cassandra, you are too brash. You must think before you act'. I see what must be done, and I do it! I see no point in running around in circles like a dog chasing it's tail." She regarded Cirilla with a tipped head. "But I misjudged you in the beginning, did I not? I thought the answer was before me, clear as day. I cannot afford to be so careless again."

Cirilla smiled and chuckled. "Can't say I'm not grateful to hear that."

Cassandra smiled in spite of herself. "I can be harsh, I know." She moved to walk away, but then she paused and turned a questioning look on Cirilla. "You've said you believe you're chosen. Does that mean... you believe in the Maker?"

Cirilla nodded. "I believe He exists."

"That's... comforting. Surely the Maker put us both on this path for a reason. Now it simply remains to see where it leads us," She finally turned and left, leaving Cirilla with a lot to ponder. If Cassandra accepted her and believed they were put on this path by the Maker, did it really matter who she was and what she had done in her past? If she was chosen, the Maker had forgiven her sins, and she did not regret her life. She would go back to it if she could, but she was different now. She needed to accept her place in all of this, even if that meant people found out who she was. Her identity was simply another square on the chess board, a move to be made if necessary. The surety of someone discovering her was growing as they planned to visit Val Royeaux. She had always worn a mask while performing, but true players of the Game may still know who she was. That was concern for the future. For now, she had a valley to stroll.

Cirilla found herself most mornings hovering near Leliana's tent to listen to her daily prayers, allowing herself to recite the familiar words of the Chant silently alongside another. It had been a habit as a child with her brothers. Now it was a long abandoned familiarity that was strangely comforting, even if the other person was unaware she was listening.

_Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just. Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood, the Maker's will is written._ Leliana paused her prayers, making Cirilla frown on the other side of the canvas of the tent. "Is that what You want from us? Blood? To die so that Your will is done? Is death Your only blessing?" There was a sigh and then suddenly without noise, Leliana was standing over her. "You speak for Andraste, no? What does the Maker's prophet have to say about all of this? What's His game?"

Cirilla looked up. Leliana had known she was there all along. Clever. "How is this a game?"

Leliana pointed upwards. "Do you see the sky? What about the temple ruins? The bones lying in the dust? Even if you didn't support the Divine's peace, you wouldn't call this right. Who could?" Her voice lowered with her pointing finger. "So many innocent lives... the faithful murdered where the holiest of holies once stood. If the Maker willed this, what is it if not a game or a cruel joke?"

Cirilla felt her answer falling from her lips, and it was inadequate. Leliana looked near a breakdown, her light blue eyes glistening. "Don't ask me! I'm as baffled as you are."

Leliana sighed. "Then we can only guess at what _He_ wants." Cirilla stood from her stool and they went back inside the tent to get away from the chilly morning air. "The Chantry teaches that the Maker abandoned us. He demands repentance for our sins. He demands it all. Our lives. Our deaths. Justinia gave Him everything she had, and He let her die!"

Cirilla reached out and set a comforting hand on Leliana's forearm. Most of the people in Haven were terrified beyond reason of Leliana. Being a bard herself, Cirilla knew that even as scary as she could be, Leliana was just a person with fears and feelings. "Um, maybe you should be angry at the people who murdered her."

Allowing the physical contact, Leliana continued. "If the Maker doesn't intervene to save the best of His servants, what good is He?" She sighed as she pulled away and Cirilla cringed at the harsh words. "I used to believe I was chosen, just as some say you are. I thought I was fulfilling His purpose for me, working with the Divine, helping people. But now she's dead. It was all for nothing. Serving the Maker meant nothing."

Cirilla felt ill equipped to advise Leliana. "I'm not really the best person to talk to," she admitted. "Doesn't the Chantry have people for this?"

Leliana turned a soft smile on her and chuckled sweetly. "So I should let a priest comfort me? No, this is my burden. I regret that I even let you see me like this. It was a moment of weakness. It won't happen again. Come. To work, then. We will speak later."

Cirilla left Leliana and headed for the Chantry to see if Josephine was free. She had yet to have a moment to speak with the ambassador and get a true sense of how dangerous she might be. Smiles were just as dangerous as a knife when you played the Game. Right outside the Chantry doors, she arrived just in time to watch Cullen push apart a mage and templar who were ready to come to blows, chastising each of them and dispersing the crowd as Chancellor Roderick showed up to add his voice to the chaos. Cullen grumbled in irritation, looking like he had just rolled out of bed. It was still early and Cirilla guessed that he was already likely on his second hour. She had noticed his early rising as she forced herself up at dawn each morning to snoop around Haven gathering information. It was her own game. Cullen had actually caught her a few times, lending credence to his credibility as Commander. She had taken the opportunity to have a few brief conversations with him. She liked the Commander in spite of Varric's observation that he spent a lot of time with a sour expression. "Back already, Chancellor? Haven't you done enough?"

Roderick ignored the jab and said loudly. "I'm curious, Commander, as to how your Inquisition and its 'Herald' will restore order as you've promised."

"Of course you are," Cullen sneered. He addressed the crowd next. "Back to your duties, all of you!" He noted her quiet approach, ready to ignore Roderick in favor of speaking with her. He gestured to the dispersing crowd. "Mages and templars were already at war. Now they're blaming each other for the Divine's death."

Cirilla opened her mouth to reply and Roderick butted in. "Which is why we require a _proper_ authority to guide them back to order."

Cullen scoffed, a disbelieving snigger accompanying his words. "Who, you? Random clerics who weren't important enough to be at the Conclave?"

Cirilla grinned at his jab as Roderick snapped back. "The rebel Inquisition and its so-called 'Herald of Andraste'? I think not."

Cirilla took offense. "If the 'proper' authority hadn't completely failed, the Conclave wouldn't have been needed."

Roderick frowned. "So you suggest I blame the Chantry and exalt a murderer? What of justice?"

"That won't help restore order in the here and now," Cullen insisted.

"Order will never be restored so long as this rebellion is allowed to fester," Roderick argued.

"Remind me why you're allowing the Chancellor to stay?" Cirilla asked Cullen with a falsely peppy tone accompanied by a teasing grin, ignoring the Chancellor again.

"Clearly your _templar_ knows where to draw the line," Roderick scowled.

"He's toothless," Cullen said to his face. "There's no point turning him into a martyr simply because he runs at the mouth." Then he turned a grin on her that matched hers. "The Chancellor's a good indicator of what to expect in Val Royeaux, however."

"Well, let's hope we find solutions, and not a cathedral full of chancellors," Cirilla patted Cullen's shoulder amiably before taking a step away to pick up her original intention of heading inside.

Cullen replied dryly, "The stuff of nightmares."

Cirilla hid her chuckle as Roderick grunted. "Mock if you will. I'm certain the Maker is less amused."

She passed Cullen and went into the Chantry, heading toward the rear where Josephine had set up an office of sorts in the room directly beside the war room. The ambassador sat at her desk with a steaming mug beside her on a knitted coaster. Her quill flicked across the papers beneath it nearly as quickly as Cirilla could flick a dagger. She glanced up, offering Cirilla a warm smile in spite of the early hour. "Ah, Lady Ciri, good morning."

"Ciri is good enough," she corrected, pulling a chair up to sit across from Josephine. She could see the struggle move across Josie's face as she stuffed down her urge to ask personal questions. She was dying to know all she could about the 'Herald' so she could talk her up to the Orlesians. Little did she know that the information would likely close more doors than it would open. "I take it from that pained expression that Leliana has still not figured out my surname."

Josephine attempted to brush off being read so easily, but then she simply flushed and smiled. "Not as of yet, no. I do not understand why you are so against us knowing who you are."

Cirilla sat back in the wooden chair and shrugged. "If I ever want to go back to my old life, it's in my best interest to remain anonymous, in spite of it becoming increasingly obvious that I probably will never be able to return." She wiggled the fingers on her marked hand in the air between them.

"Then what is the harm in allowing the Inquisition to announce their Herald properly?" Josephine asked.

"Being the Herald is more than enough attention, thank you," Cirilla chuckled. "The title, accompanied with even a sliver of legitimacy will likely cause quite the uproar. And not the kind we're looking for."

After a studious flick of her eyes, Josephine sighed. "I suppose you would know best. I will accept your privacy for now, but eventually someone is going to press the issue."

Cirilla set one of her teasing grins on Josie. "Isn't it your job to make us look good in spite of anything? The Herald of Andraste being a humble nobody should be a good angle for you to play, Lady ambassador."

Josephine pressed her lips together as her eyes sparkled. "Get out of here before I set you on the rack and force the answers out of you."

"Oh, you're such a tease, Josie!" she said, getting up from her chair and placing it back where she had found it before leaving the office with a chuckle.

She stood in the war room later that day staring wide eyed at Josephine. "Having the Herald address the clerics is not a terrible idea."

Cullen took the words right out of her mouth. "You can't be serious."

Josephine put on her serious face to drive home her point. "Mother Giselle isn't wrong. At the moment, the Chantry's only strength is that they are united in opinion."

Cullen shook his head in frustration and began to pace in a single tight circle, his right arm reaching up to rub at the back of his neck. "And we should ignore the danger to the Herald?" Leliana asked.

"Let's ask her," Josephine suggested.

Cirilla had to drag her attention away from her studious observations. She was a bard. Convincing Orlesians she could be trusted was literally what she did professionally. She shrugged, "What can they do? It's just talk."

Leliana's answer drew her attention to the swaying bard. "Don't underestimate the power of their words. An angry mob will do you in just as quickly as a blade." It was as if Leliana believed she was not aware of that fact.

"I will go with her," Cassandra volunteered. "Mother Giselle said she could provide us names? Use them."

"But why?" Leliana asked with a frown. "This is nothing but a..."

As usual, Cassandra cut off her words. It seemed the right hand of the Divine was used to overpowering the left. "What choice do we have, Leliana? Right now we can't approach anyone for help with the Breach. Use what influence we have to call the clerics together. Once they are ready, we will see this through."

Josephine looked pleased, Cullen worried. Leliana was just plain annoyed. Cirilla left the war room under the impression that Cassandra had pretty much decided how this was going to go down. She found Varric in his usual spot by the fire and they went to the tavern together for drinks to pass the time until they were called to pack for travel to the capital.


	3. The Storm Coast's Claim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cirilla goes on a recruiting spree and meets an intriguing new friend.

The bazaar in Val Royeaux was old news. Cirilla handed her horse over to a stable hand and started down the white stone path lined with statues. She could have recited each plaque by heart if asked. The rest of her party seemed just as lacking in awe as she was. What a worldly bunch her new friends were. On the other hand, they seemed to be the center of both awe and fear. Several finely dressed ladies gasped and fled in the opposite direction once they set their eyes on the Inquisition trappings that they each had strapped somewhere on their clothing. "The city still mourns," Cassandra pointed out, large black tapestries hanging near the city's gates. It didn't go much farther than that small show of respect.

"Just a guess, Seeker, but I think they all know who we are," Varric whispered.

"Your skills of observation never fail to impress me, Varric," Cassandra growled, spitting his name as usual. He and Solas had been brought along as backup in case things went worse than they were expecting. Cassandra had objected vehemently, but Cirilla had been all for it. Ultimately, Cassandra seemed to defer to her.

As they passed into the city, a scout jogged up and addressed Cirilla. "My Lady Herald." She dropped to a knee and Cirilla acknowledged her.

"You're one of Leliana's people," Cassandra realized. "What have you found?"

"The Chantry mothers await you, but... so do a great many templars." The girl had a nervous stutter to her voice and she refused to make eye contact with Cirilla.

Cassandra ignored her obvious discomfort. "There are templars here?"

"The people seem to think the templars will protect them from..." her eyes flicked briefly toward Cirilla before she finished with an apologetic tone. "from the Inquisition. They're gathering on the other side of the market. I think that's where the templars intend to meet you."

"Only one thing to do, then," Cassandra moved past the girl as she stood. Cirilla gave her an encouraging nod. "They wish to protect the people? From us?"

"We knew there would be some kind of reaction," Cirilla pointed out.

"But I didn't expect the templars to make an appearance," Cassandra admitted.

"The people may just be assuming what the templars will do. I've heard of no concrete plans," the girl said just as nervously as she followed them along.

"You think the Order's returned to the fold, maybe? To deal with us upstarts?" Varric wondered smartly.

"I know Lord Seeker Lucius. I can't imagine him coming to the Chantry's defense, not after all that's occurred," Cassandra mused.

"So the potential for trouble has increased twofold," Cirilla sighed.

"Return to Haven," Cassandra ordered the scout. "Someone will need to inform them if we are... delayed."

"As you say, my lady." The girl left and they continued into the central courtyard of the Summer Bazaar.

The air was so thick with nerves that Cirilla imagined she could smell it. She felt her own flesh prickle on instinct as they headed into the gathered crowd on the docks entry side of the open air market. Her hands were not far from her daggers. A wooden dais had been built specifically for the event that was happening. A handful of clerics and some templars stood on the upraised space. As soon as the mother at the forefront of it all laid eyes on Cirilla she opened her mouth and began to project her voice above the light murmur of the crowd. "Good people of Val Royeaux, hear me! Together we mourn our Divine. Her naive and beautiful heart silenced by treachery! You wonder what will become of her murderer. Well, wonder no more! Behold the so-called Herald of Andraste! Claiming to rise where our beloved fell. We say this is a false prophet! No servant of anything beyond her selfish greed!"

Cirilla answered the accusations in the manner in which didn't make her sound completely full of herself, but did not discount what the Inquisition had been putting forth as the official opinion. "And do you know everything the Maker commands? Look up in the sky!" she pointed to the Breach, seemingly visible from just about everywhere. "I alone survived the Breach... and I can end it!"

"It's true!" Cassandra added. "The Inquisition seeks only to end this madness before it is too late!"

The mother took a haughty stance and a clattering sounded above the murmuring of the crowd. Cirilla turned toward the noise and saw more templars heading toward the gathering. "It is already too late! The templars have returned to the Chantry! They will face this 'Inquisition', and the people will be safe once more!"

The man in charge passed by her as if he didn't even hear her shouting. One of the templars on his heel reached out and slammed a fist into the back of her head, knocking her to the ground. Cirilla was not the only one who reacted. One of the younger templars that had been standing on the dais before the others showed up lurched forward, his face twisted in horror. The man in charge, an older man with gray hair and a pale complexion patted his shoulder reassuringly. "Still yourself. She is beneath us."

The young man hung his head in shame before glancing at Cirilla. With her own frown, she stepped forward. "Was that display supposed to impress me?"

The leader glanced at her as if only just noticing there was a crowd gathered at all. "On the contrary. It wasn't for you at all."

He turned to leave the dais and Cassandra dogged his steps. "Lord Seeker Lucius, it's imperative that we speak with..."

"You will not address me," he said with high regard for himself.

"Lord Seeker?" Cassandra gasped in surprise.

"Creating a heretical movement, raising up a puppet as Andraste's prophet. You should be ashamed." He turned from Cassandra and raised his voice. "You should all be ashamed! The templars failed no one when they left the Chantry to purge the mages! You are the ones who have failed! You who'd leash our righteous swords with doubt and fear! If you came to appeal to the Chantry, you are too late. The only destiny here that deserves respect is _mine_."

Cirilla crossed her arms and glared at the monotone narcissist. "And what if I really am the Herald of Andraste?"

He regarded her like a squashed bug. "You have nothing. No influence, no power, and certainly no holy purpose."

The young templar stepped forward again. "But Lord Seeker... what if she really was sent by the Maker? What if...?"

Another came to the Lord Seekers defense. "You are called to a higher purpose! Do not question!

"_I_ will make the Templar Order a power that stands alone against the void. _We_ deserve recognition. Independence!" the Lord Seeker growled. "You have shown me nothing, and the Inquisition... less than nothing. Templars! Val Royeaux is unworthy of our protection! We march!"

As the Lord Seeker led his templars off, the young man threw Cirilla one last apologetic glance before following. Varric sidled up to her side and said sarcastically, "Charming fellow, isn't he?"

"Has Lord Seeker Lucius gone mad?" Cassandra gasped.

"Do you know him very well?" Cirilla asked, watching as the crowd also dispersed.

"He took over the Seekers of Truth two years ago, after Lord Seeker Lambert's death. He was always a decent man, never given to ambition and grandstanding. This is very bizarre."

"Do you think he can be reasoned with?" It seemed a useless question because Cirilla doubted it very much.

"I hope so. If not him, there are surely others in the Order who don't feel as he does. Either way, we should first return to Haven and inform the others."

Before they had a chance to even move, an arrow swooped past Cirilla's face, landing at her feet with a thunk. While Cassandra panicked, Cirilla recognized it for what it was. A message. She knelt and plucked the small paper from the arrow and unrolled it to read the note. There were dozens of scribbles and tiny drawings around the edges, making the note slightly difficult to read, but it was apparently someone warning her of a threat to the Inquisition.

One scavenger hunt and some hours later, they were standing in front of an Orlesian man who had flung fireballs at her face the second she had entered. He was puffed up and self important, and Cirilla rolled her eyes as he talked about how threatening he was to the Inquisition. The gesture made her catch movement behind the lone guard. She narrowed her eyes and saw the blonde haired elf slip out of the shadows. The guard lurched forward, a knife in his back. At the 'hrk' that escaped his throat as he died and the sound of him falling to the ground, the talker turned to see what was going on. The girl drew back a bow, the arrow knocked perfectly. She was dressed in tight fitting yet bizarrely put together and loudly colored clothing. Her left sleeve was rolled up to keep it from getting in the way of her bow work. Simple leather pauldrons attached to a leather chest plate served as protection. Her belt was lined with bottles of all shapes and sizes and her quiver was full. Her haircut was just as haphazard as her clothing, looking like she either cut it herself without a mirror, or had a child do it. She glared at the man with narrowed eyes on a pleasant face. "Just say 'what'..."

"What is the..." he never got a chance to finish. Her arrow found his eye and he went down in a heap.

She drew her large lips back in disgust. "Eww... squishy one, but you heard me, right? 'Just say what.' Rich tits always try for more than they deserve." She headed over to the man's corpse and snatched her arrow back. Another disgusted look crossed her face as she had to shake his ruined eyeball free of the shaft before returning the arrow to her quiver. "Blah, blah blah, obey me! Arrow in my face!" She moved back to give Cirilla a once over as she continued. "So, you followed the notes well enough. Glad to see you're... You're kind of plain, really. All that talk, and then you're just... a person. I mean, it's all good, innit? The important thing is you glow? You're the Herald thingy?"

"They say I'm the Herald of Andraste. But who are you, and what's this about?" Cirilla wondered, easily keeping up with the fast talk.

The girl shrugged. "No idea, I don't know this idiot from manners. My people just said the Inquisition should look at him."

"Your people? Elves?"

She snorted. "Ha! No. People people. Name's Sera. This is cover." she gestured to a few crates stacked around the room. "Get 'roud it. For the reinforcements. Don't worry. Someone tipped me their equipment shed. They've got no breeches!"

After a few moments where Cirilla wondered if she was telling the truth, another group of men charged into the meeting place. Not a single one of them was wearing pants. She attempted to stifle her laughter and be serious. "Why didn't you take their weapons?"

"Because no breeches!" Sera replied with a mad giggle. "Bunch of nutters!" She loosed an arrow and then cringed. "Oh! Right in the plums!"

The madness seemed to never end as they fought the pants-less men. Cirilla had seen some ridiculous things in her time, but this was by far the oddest. Sera was still giggling when the last man fell. "Friends really came through with that tip. No breeches!" She paused and caught her breath, still laughing. "So, Herald of Andraste. You're a strange one. I'd like to join."

Cirilla tipped her head, still grinning. "Could we take a few moments for sense to reassert itself? Who are you people?"

Sera scoffed. "I'm not 'people', but I get what you want. It's like this... I sent you a note to look for hidden stuff by my friends. The Friends of Red Jenny. That's me. Well, I'm one. So is a fence in Montfort, some woman in Kirkwall. There were three in Starkhaven. Brothers or something. It's just a name, yeah? It lets little people, 'friends', be part of something while they stick it to nobles they hate. So here, in your face, I'm Sera. 'The Friends of Red Jenny' are sort of out there. I used them to help you. Plus arrows."

Cirilla had heard the name before, but never dealt with the group. "The Inquisition already has friends in high places. Can you add to that prestige?" she wondered. From what she understood, a lot of the workings of the Jennies turned nobles against each other. That could be advantageous.

"Here's how it is..." Sera began, gesturing wildly as she spoke and adding sound effects to her speech. "You 'important' people are up here, shoving your cods around. 'blah, blah, I'll crush you. I'll crush _you_!' 'Oh, crush you.' Ahem. Step down, you've got big lords with big purses like the tit we killed. Or was he one of the endless arselickers who follow? Doesn't matter, his grand plan was ruined by scrap torn from his desk and a red sock. By someone who couldn't read it. So no, I'm not Lord Poncyfart, all ruffled. But if you don't listen down here, too, you risk your breeches. Like those guards. I stole their..." she stifled another chuckle before looking Cirilla in the eye. "Look, do you need people or not? I want to get everything back to normal. Like you?"

Cirilla smiled at the girl. That was a bottom line she could get behind. "All right, Sera. I can use you and your 'friends'."

"Yes!" she pumped a fist. "Get in good before you're too big to like. That'll keep your breeches where they should be. Plus extra breeches, because I have all these... You have merchants who buy that pish, yeah? Got to be worth something. Anyway..." she picked up a heavy looking potato sack and slung it over her shoulder. "Haven. See you there, Herald. This will be grand." Then she trotted off.

"You sure know how to pick 'em, Ribbons," Varric said with a chuckle. "I hope she makes it to Haven. Seems like she's easily distracted."

When someone was leaving Val Royeaux was apparently the best time to waylay them. Twice on her way out of the city, Cirilla was stopped. First was by a messenger with an invitation to an afternoon party in a couple of hours. Her invitation came from Madame Vivienne de Fer. Cirilla knew the name, but she had never met the woman in person. She was the pet mage of one of the council of Heralds members, Duke Bastien. Josephine would have kittens if Cirilla could bring someone so influential in the empire onto their side. She pocketed the invitation after getting permission from Cassandra to stay the extra day. Cirilla took herself to a nearby shop to get an outfit proper for the occasion and then they were heading for the horses so they could get to the chateau when they were stopped again.

"If I might have a moment of your time?" The speaker nearly jogged to catch them. She was a small elven woman with short black hair and large green eyes. She wore mage robes and spoke with an Orlesian accent.

As she regarded them all, Cassandra frowned. "Grand Enchanter Fiona?"

Cirilla, who had been gathering information on the rebellion since joining the Inquisition, recognized the name even as Solas jumped in to speak to the woman. "Leader of the mage rebellion? Is it not dangerous for you to be here?"

"I heard of this gathering, and I wanted to see the fabled Herald of Andraste with my own eyes. If it's help with the Breach you seek, perhaps my people are the wiser option."

"I'm surprised the leader of the mages wasn't at the Conclave," Cirilla accused with a risen brow.

"Yes," Cassandra agreed. "You were supposed to be, and yet somehow you avoided death."

"As did the Lord Seeker, you'll note," Fiona pointed out. "Both of us sent negotiators in our stead, in case it was a trap. I won't pretend I'm not glad to live. I lost many dear friends that day. It disgusts me to think the templars will get away with it. I'm hoping you won't let them."

"So, you think the templars are responsible," Cirilla gathered.

"Why wouldn't she?" Cassandra shrugged.

"Lucius hardly seems broken up over his losses, if he's concerned about them at all. You heard him. You think he wouldn't happily kill the Divine to turn people against us?" Fiona scoffed. "So yes, I think he did it. More than I think you did it, at any rate."

Cirilla crossed her arms. "And what do you want in exchange for the mages' help?"

Fiona chuckled wryly. "Oh, I haven't promised the Inquisition our help yet. Consider this an invitation to Redcliffe. Come meet with the mages. An alliance could help us both, after all." She dipped her head with a curt smile. "I hope to see you there. Au revoir, my lady Herald."

Cirilla slipped her mask on. She had purchased a generic design that did not link her to any house or name. Before she had owned one that showed off her affiliation to Anselmo's family. She wouldn't have bothered, but one did not attend a party in Orlais barefaced. Her outfit was simple, light leggings, stylish boots, and a feminine doublet that she had used to hide a few knives just in case. The invitation had been civil, but she had played the Game enough to know that nothing could be taken at face value.

She had been to chateaus like this one before, hundreds of times. She was announced inside the door as 'Lady Ciri, representing the Inquisition.' As soon as her name was uttered, a pair of party goers pounced. "What a pleasure to meet you, my lady. Seeing the same faces at every event becomes so tiresome." The man said, taking her hand in his and bending to kiss her knuckles. "So you must be a guest of Madame de Fer. Or are you here for Duke Bastien?"

She had no chance to answer before the woman added her voice to the conversation. "Are you here on business? I have heard the most curious tales of you. I cannot imagine half of them are true."

"What have you heard about me?" Cirilla asked warily. Hopefully her identity hadn't been thrown into the mix.

The girl tittered. "Some say that when the veil opened, Andraste herself delivered you from the Fade."

Cirilla stifled her relieved sigh. "Everything you've heard? Completely true." That should shock them.

Another titter of excitement. "Better and better. The Inquisition should attend more of these parties."

When another voice rose from across the room, Cirilla realized just how many of the people had been listening. A scoff accompanied the new man's words over the silence of the room. "The Inquisition? What a load of pig shit!" He approached them and Cirilla immediately noted the rapier he carried. "Washed up sisters and crazed Seekers? No one can take them seriously." He circled her like a shark and stopped behind her, forcing her to turn if she wanted to keep an eye on him. "Everyone knows it's just an excuse for a bunch of political outcasts to grab power."

"That's not true," Cirilla answered his accusation. "I'm just searching for Divine Justinia's killer."

He scoffed again. "Of course you are. I'm sure your _army_ is out scouring the hills for her murderer as we speak. We know what your 'Inquisition' truly is. If you were a woman of honor, you'd step outside and answer the charges."

He reached for his rapier. Did he think she didn't know how the Game was played? Cirilla was just about to put him in his place for his behavior when a snap of magic burst up around him and he was frozen in place. "My dear Marquis, how unkind of you to use such language in my house... to my guests." A woman, who could only be Madame de Fer, strolled down the grand staircase to the left of the room. She wore Orlesian style mage robes crafted of the finest silks in blue and white, and a sharp hennin on her head that held her mask in place. She moved with poise and precision, her hips sashaying as she placed one foot in front of the other. Cirilla remembered learning how to move like that. She rarely used the skill however. "You know such rudeness is... intolerable."

Cirilla watched as the Marquis shuddered with cold and gasped. "Madame Vivienne, I humbly beg your pardon!"

"You should," she said as she circled around in front of the Marquis to stare him down. "Whatever am I going to do with you, my dear?" She turned to give Cirilla a once over, the judgement in her gaze obvious. The next few minutes would tell if they might come to an agreement. "My lady, you're the wounded party in this unfortunate affair. What would you have me do with this foolish, foolish man?"

Cirilla and Vivienne both knew that men had been killed over lesser insults. Cirilla saw this as an opportunity to get an idea of who Madame de Fer truly was. "The Marquis doesn't interest me. Do whatever you like with him."

Vivienne grinned with her thick lips and grabbed the Marquis by his frozen chin. "Poor Marquis, issuing challenges and hurling insults like some Ferelden dog lord." She pulled her hand away and snapped her fingers to end the spell. The Marquis coughed and sputtered as he thawed. Vivienne waited patiently for the noise to cease so she could continue and deliver the words with clarity. "And all dressed up in your Aunt Solange's doublet. Didn't she give you that to wear to the Grand Tourney? To think, all the brave chevaliers who will be competing left for Markham this morning... and you're still here. Were you hoping to sate your damaged pride by defeating the Herald of Andraste in a public duel? Or did you think her blade could put an end to the misery of your failure?" The Marquis hung his head in shame. Cirilla knew that was the end of his reputation. Vivienne may as well have killed him. "Run along, my dear. Do give my regards to your aunt." Vivienne turned a bright smile on Cirilla as the Marquis slunk away. "I'm delighted you could attend this little gathering. I've so wanted to meet you." Vivienne led her away from the party to a secluded hallway lined with floor to ceiling windows. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Vivienne, First Enchanter of Montsimmard and Enchantress to the Imperial Court."

"Charmed, Lady Vivienne," Cirilla said with her best smile and a short dip of her head.

"Ah, but I didn't invite you to the chateau for pleasantries. With Divine Justinia dead, the Chantry is in shambles. Only the Inquisition might restore sanity and order to our frightened people. As leader of the last loyal mages of Thedas, I feel it only right that I lend my assistance to your cause."

Cirilla knew the woman by reputation and decided to get the most obvious question out of the way before asking any others. "Is your interest in the Inquisition, Madame de Fer, or is it more personal?"

Vivienne laughed genuinely. "Aren't you charming? It's professional, of course."

With that out of the way, Cirilla continued, "You say you led the last of the loyal mages. Loyal to whom?"

"To the people of Thedas, of course," Vivienne said with a smile. "We have not forgotten the commandment, as some have, that magic exists to serve man. I support any effort to restore such order."

"So you're in favor of returning the mages to the Circle, then?" Cirilla guessed.

Vivienne shrugged fluidly. "Where else can mages safely learn to master their talents? We need an institution to protect and nurture magic. Maker knows, magic will find neither on its own."

"What's in this for you?" Cirilla asked. There was always an angle in Orlais.

"The same thing anyone gets by fighting this chaos. The chance to meet my enemy, to decide my fate. I won't wait quietly for destruction."

"Are you devout? What's your opinion of the Chantry?" This was important. Right now, faith was important.

"I was a great admirer of the late Divine Justinia V. The Chantry, at it's best, unites the disparate cultures of Thedas and looks after its most vulnerable. Had she lived, Justinia could have accomplished much."

With a raised brow hidden by her mask, Cirilla pointed out the flaw. "You are aware that the Chantry hasn't sanctioned this Inquisition..."

"The Chantry is leaderless. They're in no position to officially sanction anything. Besides, my dear, if there is one virtue the Chant of Light teaches us, it is forgiveness. Once the Inquisition has sealed the Breach, I'm sure the new Divine will not care in the slightest about official permission."

Now came the final question. "What exactly can you do for the Inquisition?" Cirilla was not certain at what capacity Vivienne wished to serve.

"I am well versed in the politics of the Orlesian Empire. I know every member of the Imperial Court personally. I have all the resources remaining to the Circle at my disposal. And I am a mage of no small talent. Will that do?"

It sounded like Vivienne wanted to accompany them as a liaison of sorts. Cirilla did lack someone who could both play the game and work with the mages they had gathered. It was a good fit. She smiled and nodded. "The Inquisition will be happy to have you, Lady Vivienne."

The smile on her face even reached her lips. "Great things are happening, my dear. I can promise you that."

Vivienne was indeed as powerful as she proclaimed. As they made their way back to Haven, she had ample opportunities to show off that talent between the rifts along the way and the odd bandit group that peppered the road. Her specialization, she told Cirilla, was known as Knight Enchanter. She was able to transform her staff into a large spirit blade that she maintained with her mana reserves to wield as a two handed warrior would. Cirilla remained civil with the icy woman, knowing exactly how to handle her from her days as a bard. Vivienne never asked after her name, content to refer to her as 'my dear' more often than not, because she understood Cirilla's wish for anonymity. It was a mutual tolerance.

Vivienne happily took a room in the Chantry, immediately thanking Cirilla for helping her get settled and then introducing herself to Mother Giselle. Cirilla was just about to excuse herself when Josephine appeared and spotted her. "Ah! It's good you've returned. We heard of your encounter."

"You heard?" Cassandra gasped in surprise.

Cullen and Leliana approached from the war room, Leliana hearing Cassandra's shocked reaction in the open air of the quiet Chantry. "My agents in the city sent word ahead, of course," she responded.

The pair paused in front of them, and Cullen crossed his arms, his expression sour. "It's a shame the templars have abandoned their senses as well as the capital."

Cirilla shrugged. "At least we know how to approach the mages and templars, now."

"Do we?" Cassandra asked skeptically. "Lord Seeker Lucius is not the man I remember."

"True," Leliana agreed with a frown. "He has taken the Order somewhere, but to do what? My reports have been... very odd."

"We must look into it. I'm certain not everyone in the Order will support the Lord Seeker," Cullen insisted.

"Or the Herald could simply go to meet the mages in Redcliffe, instead," Josie suggested casually. It wasn't a bad idea. Fiona had at least seemed willing to talk, which was more than could be said for Lucius.

"You think the mage rebellion is more united? It could be ten times worse!" Cullen gasped, his eyes widening. He may not be a templar anymore, but it seemed he still thought like one.

I could at least see what the mages want," Cirilla suggested with a shrug, trying to nudge opinions toward Josephine's side. It seemed the room was divided evenly.

"No doubt what they've always wanted. Support for their cause," Cassandra scoffed with pursed lips.

"We shouldn't discount Redcliffe. The mages may be worth the risk," Josie prodded.

"They are powerful, Ambassador, but more desperate than you realize," Cassandra warned.

Cirilla tipped her head in a frown. "You think the invitation could be some kind of trap?"

Cassandra looked at her as if she were being naive. "If some among the rebel mages were responsible for what happened at the conclave..."

"The same could be said about the templars," Josie pointed out.

"True enough," Cullen interrupted, dropping his crossed arms to his sides. "Right now, I'm not certain we have enough influence to approach the Order safely."

Cassandra shrugged. "Then the Inquisition needs agents in more places. That's something _you_ can help with." She glanced at Cirilla.

"In the meantime, we should consider other options," Josephine suggested. Cirilla was not certain what exactly she had in mind, but she was ready to go out and do some more recruiting if it meant they could more quickly close the Breach for good.

She was ready to clear out with the others when Leliana stopped her with an apologetic look before bringing up what she had to say. "There is one other matter. Several months ago, the Grey Wardens of Ferelden vanished. I sent word to those in Orlais, but they have also disappeared. Ordinarily I wouldn't even consider the idea they're involved in all this, but the timing is... curious."

"That does sound odd, I agree," Cirilla nodded.

A sour expression pursed Leliana's lips briefly. "The others have disregarded my suspicion, but I cannot ignore it. Two days ago, my agents in the Hinterlands heard news of a Grey Warden by the name of Blackwall. If you have the opportunity, please seek him out. Perhaps he can put my mind at ease."

"And if he can't?" Cirilla wondered.

"Then there may be more going on than we thought," the spymaster sighed.

They parted ways, Cirilla leaving the Chantry. In spite of the light flurries of snow falling around Haven, it was a nice day. She went to her cabin and secured her belongings before heading out to the stables to make certain that Master Dennet had arrived safely, and then she crossed the road to the barracks where Cullen stood watching the soldiers' drills with a critical eye. He scolded a few of the fighters before turning to her as she approached. True to form, he started their conversation with a report. "We've received a number of recruits... Locals from Haven and some pilgrims..." he turned his head from the action to briefly set a grin on her. "None made _quite_ the entrance you did."

She shrugged casually. "I just hope I can help."

"As do we all," he agreed. "It is enough that you would try." He began to move through the men, signaling mistakes and correcting them as he spoke, while she followed. "I was recruited to the Inquisition in Kirkwall, myself. I was there during the mage uprising... I saw firsthand the devastation it caused." He was interrupted by a scout handing him a bit of paper and he read over it quickly, still moving. He made busy look fluid. "Cassandra sought a solution. When she offered me a position, I left the templars to join her cause. Now it seems like we face something far worse."

He paused near the edges of the rows of tents that popped up more frequently each day. She knew he was listening, even as he read more of the report in his hands. "I must have this mark for a reason." She lifted her hand and glanced at the glove she had pulled over the glowing mark. "It will work. I'm sure of it."

"Provided we can secure aid... but I'm confident we can," he said, holding the report forgotten by his leg. "The Chantry lost control of both templars and mages. Now they argue over a new Divine while the Breach remains." The scout returned and Cullen handed over the paper with a nod. "The Inquisition could act when the Chantry cannot. Our followers would be part of that. There's so much we can..." He stopped himself mid sentence and snorted self depricatingly, shaking his head. "Forgive me. I doubt you came here for a lecture."

Cirilla nudged him gently and set a flirtatious smile on him. "No, but if you have one prepared, I'd love to hear it."

He laughed softly and rested his hands on his sword hilt. "Another time perhaps." When she simply continued to wait as if he might continue, he shuffled his feet. "I, ah..." then he cleared his throat nervously. "There's still a lot of work ahead."

He was saved from any more awkwardness when another scout approached. "Commander! Ser Rylen has a report on our supply lines."

When she glanced back at Cullen, the shifting awkwardness was gone, replaced with his usual sardonic swagger. He set a lopsided grin on her and headed for the scout to take the report. "As I was saying..."

She left him to his work and headed back into the village. They had been on the road for days, and she was looking forward to a warm meal. She felt obligated to check on things each time she returned to Haven, in spite of her having no formal say in anything. Josie dealt with their guests, Leliana was their information, Cullen had his hands full with the army, and Cassandra seemed less interested in their supplies than she did in her own frustrations. It left Cirilla to be the carer. She had to care, because no one else had the time. She headed for the tavern.

Inside, she spotted Varric at his usual seat and moved to join him. He lifted his mug and saluted her with it. "I owe you a sovereign, Ribbons."

"What for?" she asked with a raised brow.

He pointed across the room and Cirilla saw Sera chatting with Flissa, the tavern's barmaid. "She actually made it and didn't forget us."

"Well, shit," Cirilla chuckled and got up to head over and greet the newcomer.

When Sera spotted her, she held her arms wide and grinned. "So, this is it, huh?" Cirilla planted herself in a chair across from Sera and tipped her head in mild offense. Sera chuckled. "Oh, no, it's fine, yeah? It's just, I thought it'd be bigger." With barely a breath for Cirilla to answer, she giggled wildly. "Pfft, that would've been hilarious if you were a man, right? Wasted. Anyway, stopping wars should earn more sovereigns than this. Need things back to normal for coins to be flowing again. Another reason the templars and mages need to be sat down."

Cirilla snorted into the mug of ale that had been brought her with a wave from Varric. Her payment it seemed. "I'm pretty sure the Conclave proved it's not that easy."

"Yes it is," Sera said with finality.

"No, it isn't?" Cirilla's brow rose in amusement.

Sera frowned. "Why? Because someone yelled it real loud? Make them prove it. They're too busy to look up where the real questions are."

Cirilla nodded in appeasement. "Right, they should know it's a simple job. End all war, stitch the sky." She paused a tick as Sera looked at her with worry that she might have said something wrong. "The easy one first, of course."

When Sera realized she was teasing, she giggled. "You're daft, yeah? Most people get special they lose their snerk. Can't see how stupid it all is. I think I'll like you, Lady Herald. Maybe you _are _a little touched, yeah?"

Cirilla smiled sweetly. "I think I'll enjoy having you around, Sera. I hope you'll feel the same."

Sera smirked. " 'Lady' Ciri is cheeky." Then she stood and leaned on the table, taking Cirilla's mug from her. "See you, Herald. 'Herald'. Have to do something about that."

On her next daily stroll, Cirilla ran into a young soldier in heavy armor. He seemed frustrated as most people he addressed brushed him aside. When she approached, he spoke to her breathlessly in a high, soft voice. "Excuse me, I've got a message for the Inquisition, but I'm having a hard time getting anyone to talk to me."

With his complexion and dark brown hair, Cirilla pegged him as Tevinter and was not surprised that he had been getting the brush off. She smiled sweetly and he seemed to calm. "What's the message?"

"We got word of some Tevinter mercenaries gathering out on the Storm Coast. My company Commander, Iron Bull, offers the information free of charge. If you'd like to see what the Bull's Chargers can do for the Inquisition, meet us there and watch us work."

The name Iron Bull was certainly interesting. Curious, Cirilla nodded and asked, "What should I know about your commander?"

"Iron Bull?" the soldier asked with a grin. He clearly respected the man. "He's one of those Qunari. The big guys with the horns?" Cirilla was immediately interested. She had never seen a Qunari in person before. She was also mostly clueless about anything to do with their history or culture, which was new to her. She was used to being well informed. "He leads from the front, he pays well, and he's a lot smarter than the last bastard I worked for. Best of all, he's professional. We accept contracts with whoever makes the first real offer. You're the first time he's gone out of his way to pick a side."

"What can your Bull's Chargers offer the Inquisition?" she followed up.

The young man stood taller. "We're loyal, we're tough, and we don't break contracts. Ask around Val Royeaux. We've got references."

Cirilla grinned at his pride. "Why did your commander send us this information?"

"Iron Bull wants to work for the Inquisition. He thinks you're doing good work."

Cirilla nodded, satisfied. "I look forward to meeting this Iron Bull."

"We're the best you'll find. Come to the Storm Coast, and you can see us in action."

The soldier saluted and left. Cirilla had been to the morning meeting in the war room, and Leliana had already had some scouts sent to the coast to hunt down leads on the Grey Wardens, just in case Blackwall didn't pan out. Cirilla hadn't planned on heading there personally, but if there was an entire mercenary company waiting to be hired, it was worth a look. Plus for selfish reasons, she wanted to simply catch at least a glance at a Qunari, if not more. She was curious by nature and the Oxmen to the North were a mystery.

The Storm Coast was definitely aptly named. From the moment they reached the Coast lands, and passed through West Hill, they were being pelted with rain. Cirilla was soaked through by the time they reached the forward camp that Harding had set up. The dwarf greeted her with a smile, even beneath her limp hair and dripping armor. "Your worship! For what it's worth, welcome to the Storm Coast. I would have sent word sooner, but our efforts have been... delayed."

"How so?" Cirilla asked, brushing her sopping hair from her eyes.

"There's a group of bandits operating in the area. They know the terrain, and our small party has had trouble going up against them. Some of our soldiers went to speak with their leader. Haven't heard back, though." Her tone was concerned and hesitant.

"Of course you haven't," Cirilla said a bit more irritably than she wanted to. It wasn't Harding's fault it was raining.

"The soldiers didn't have an exact location for the bandits, but they were starting their search farther down the beach," she offered helpfully. "With all the fuss, we haven't been able to conduct a proper search for the Wardens, either. Well, good luck, and enjoy the sea air. I hear it's good for the soul."

Cirilla rolled her eyes and smiled as Harding turned away with a smirk. She then glanced at her companions who were no less drenched than she was. Cassandra's hair was plastered to her forehead which was wrinkled in a frown, her lip curled and prepared to loose a noise of disgust. Varric had been complaining non stop from the first rain drop hit his cheek, and Sera couldn't seem to get her flashy flasks full of fire to work properly. The poison had long since leeched off her daggers while the constant river of water sloughed down the blades. She shrugged her lip apologetically at the group and sighed. "Let's see if we can't find the Chargers."

They made their way down to the rocky beach. The waves crashed angrily against the shore, making an awful ruckus. As they followed the beach like Harding had instructed, they ran into a few groups of the bandits that had been hounding their people. When Cirilla heard shouting around the next bend, she was convinced they were in for another fight. She readied her daggers in her slippery hands and jogged forward, pulling herself into the shadows as best she could in the overcast weather. Her bard skills came into play as she prepared a song, her lips moving as she sang under her breath. She needn't have bothered. The shouting was coming from two groups clashing on the rocks, neither of which was the bandits, or Inquisition. Magic charged the air and Cirilla paused to take in the scene. Her eyes fell on a huge, warrior wielding a massive ax. There was no question that he was Qunari. His large black horns protruded from the sides of his head just above his pointed ears, reaching to about the width of his broad shoulders before curving slightly upwards into five inch tall points. His skin was gray, like most Qunari, and in spite of being right in the thick of the fray, he wore very little armor. His pants puffed out, only to be cinched in where he tucked them inside his boots to keep from tripping over them as he moved. His left boot was covered with a thin metal plate, making that his forward standing side. The trend continued above with a off-sided leather pauldron that rested over his left shoulder and was held in place by straps buckled over his meaty chest and abdomen. A matching leather belt, as wide as her head was tall, secured his pants at the top. The rest of his upper body was bare, save for the thick blocky tattoos that covered his upper arm and pectoral on his right. Cirilla realized she was staring as the Chargers decimated the mages that were attempting to gain a foothold on the beach. It was worth the trip just to lay eyes on Iron Bull. He scanned the beach with one light blue eye, the other covered with an ornate metal eye patch. From beneath the patch, jagged scars peeked out on his cheek and forehead. "Chargers!" he bellowed. "Stand down!" He flung his axe over his shoulder, securing it on a harness on his back and approached the young man that Cirilla recognized as the one she had met already. "Krem! How'd we do?"

The soldier stood straighter and called out in a much more casual tone than she had heard him use in Haven. It was surprisingly more feminine, making him sound younger than she had originally guessed. "Five or six wounded, Chief. No dead."

Bull patted his shoulder. "That's what I like to hear. Let the throat-cutters finish up, then break out the casks."

When 'Krem' walked away with a nod, Cirilla approached the Bull. He eyed her with as much curiosity as she had him, but he set a friendly smile on her. "So you're with the Inquisition, huh? Glad you could make it. Come on, have a seat. Drinks are coming."

"Iron Bull, I presume?" she said as she followed him to a large bit of driftwood that sat on the beach.

He glanced at her over his shoulder and smirked. "Yeah, the horns usually give it away." He sat on the rock and made himself comfortable, his eye still studying her. "I assume you remember Cremisius Aclassi, my Lieutenant."

The man reappeared at Cirilla's side and gave a nod, his hands clasped behind his back. "Good to see you again. Throat-cutters are done, chief."

Bull tipped his head and half frowned. "Already? Have 'em check again. I don't want any of those Tevinter bastards getting away. No offense, Krem." He chuckled.

"None taken," Krem shrugged. "At least a bastard knows who his mother was. Puts him one up on you Qunari, right?"

After chuckling again, Bull returned his attention to her. "So... you've seen us fight. We're expensive, but we're worth it... and I'm sure the Inquisition can afford us."

Cirilla nodded in agreement. "The Chargers seem like an excellent company."

He waggled a large finger. "They are. But you're not just getting the boys. You're getting me." He pointed that same finger at her palm that was glowing through the special slit that Harritt had crafted into all of her travel gear so the mark could be accessed easily in the event of a rift. "You need a front line body guard, I'm your man. Whatever it is..." he stood and walked closer to her. "Demons, dragons? The bigger the better." With one last calculating look at her, he said, "And there's one other thing. Might be useful, might piss you off. Ever hear of the Ben-Hassrath?"

It sounded familiar and Cirilla nodded uncertainly. "They're a Qunari organization, right? The equivalent of their guards and city watch?"

He shrugged. "I'd go closer to 'spies', but yeah, that's them. Or, well, _us_. The Ben-Hassrath are concerned about the Breach. Magic out of control like that could cause trouble everywhere. I've been ordered to join the Inquisition, get close to the people in charge, and send reports on what's happening. But I also get reports from Ben-Hassrath agents all over Orlais. You sign me on, I'll share them with your people."

Cirilla was mildly shocked. She had been a spy for years. Typically, you didn't tell the people you were spying on that you were spying on them. "You're a Qunari spy, and you just... told me?"

"Whatever happened at that Conclave thing, it's bad. Someone needs to get that Breach closed. So whatever I am, I'm on your side," he reasoned.

He was definitely not what she had expected coming in. "You still could have hidden what you are."

His brow rose skeptically. "From something called the Inquisition? I'd've been tipped sooner or later. Better you hear it right up front from me."

Cirilla bit her lip. She had been hiding successfully for months. The only one even remotely aware that she had been a bard was Leliana. She cleared her throat. "What's in these Ben-Hassrath reports you're offering to share?"

"Enemy movements, suspicious activity, intriguing gossip. It's a bit of everything. Alone, they're not much. But if your spymaster is worth a damn, she'll put 'em to good use."

Cirilla felt her eyes widen. "She?"

He grinned. "I did a little research. Plus, I've always had a weakness for redheads." He winked his one eye at Cirilla, before flicking it hungrily over her person.

She swallowed and hoped her cheeks didn't flush too brightly. When she glanced up at him, he was enjoying her struggle. She brushed her hair back and then remembered with horror that it must have looked a mess in her soaked state. Barreling through her flustered nerves, she choked out her next question. "What would you send home in these reports of yours?"

"Enough to keep my superiors happy. Nothing that'll compromise your operations. The Qunari want to know if they need to launch an invasion to stop the whole damn world from falling apart. You let me send word of what you're doing, it'll put some minds at ease. That's good for everyone."

It sounded like a fair compromise. Somehow she trusted Bull to keep his word. "All right. You're in."

"Excellent," he said with a roving eye before turning toward where his men had gathered away from the shore. "Krem, tell the men to finish drinking on the road. The Chargers just got hired!"

Krem lightheartedly complained. "What about the casks, chief? We just opened them up. With axes."

Bull chuckled. "Find some way to seal them. You're Tevinter, right? Try blood magic." He looked over his shoulder at her and grinned. "We'll meet you back at Haven."

Within the next few days, Cirilla managed to track down the bandits that had been hounding them. Still sopping wet, she challenged their leader. Killing him brought 'the Blades of Hessarian' onto the Inquisition's payroll. The former bandits were more than happy to not have to kill and steal anymore. They became information in Leliana's pocket.

The search for the Wardens turned up nothing but several abandoned camps in the cliffs along the shore. The terrain was nearly impossible to navigate and it took them nearly a week to search every location. Leliana was going to be disappointed. The only upside was that hunting down Blackwall gave Cirilla another excuse to go to the Hinterlands and do some unsanctioned meeting with the mages.

When they arrived back at Haven from the Storm Coast, Bull and his Chargers had set up a small group of tents near the stables. Once Cirilla had delivered her reports, she went to her cabin, got cleaned up, and dried herself off to face Bull looking a bit less disheveled. She had tons of questions and at least a few days before the leadership decided what to do next. She strolled out to the Chargers' camp and sought Bull. He was sitting by himself, watching across the way as Cullen worked with the troops. Cirilla ignored the training soldiers. They were old news and Bull was fascinating. He didn't even look up to see her before acknowledging she had approached. "They've got good form. Cullen's putting his templar training to good use."

She picked a seat nearby and he looked away from the soldiers to regard her. "Did Cullen tell you he was a templar? He's not wearing the armor."

"He didn't have to. Might not be a templar shield, but it's a templar holding it. He angles the shield just a bit down. Helps direct fire or acid away, so it doesn't spray right into your face. Qunari learn the same thing when we train to fight Tevinter mages. Your templar's doing good work." It was almost as if he were trying to compliment her for Cullen's work.

"You sound like you want to head down there and give the troops some pointers," she japed.

He rumbled a negative. "Nah. I'm no good at command unless I know who my guys are sleeping with and what they like to drink. Inquisition's already too large for that. The Chargers are big enough for me. Biggest problem for the Inquisition right now isn't on the front line. It's at the top. You've got no leader. No Inquisitor."

She shrugged. "The Inquisition has done all right so far without an Inquisitor."

He scoffed. "That's because all we've needed so far is damage control. Reaction. A group can handle that. Once you've sealed the Breach, it's gonna be time to make decisions. Someone's gonna have to step up." He grunted and pulled a small flask from his belt. "Ah, who knows. Maybe you seal the Breach, the Chantry gets off it's ass, and all those soldiers go home and get fat."

He offered the flask to her after taking his own sip and she shook her head. "You think?"

He shrugged. "It could happen. It won't, but it _could_."

They sat for a moment in silence, him watching the soldiers and her watching him. "So, how did you get the name 'Iron Bull'?"

He turned a smile on her as if excited to share. "I picked it. We don't have names under the Qun, just... I don't know, job descriptions, I guess. When I came to Orlais, I chose 'The Iron Bull' for myself."

"But why specifically 'Iron Bull'?" she asked, enjoying his expressions.

He spoke wryly. "This may surprise you, but I really like hitting things." She drew back in mock surprise, making him smile again. "Also, it's '_The_ Iron Bull', technically. I like having an article at the front. It makes me sound like I'm not even a person, just a mindless weapon, an implement of destruction... That really works for me." He grunted in pleasure.

Now that the small talk was out of the way, she wanted to dive in to her questions. Her mind was racing. "I'd like to know more about the Qunari."

He lifted one brow, the other frowning. "You writing a book?"

She shrugged and found herself leaning in. As the words poured from her mouth, even her own lips were slightly surprised. "It's your culture, and I'd like to know you better."

"You could just ask," he said without a single telling hint or expression.

"I _am_," she pointed out.

He sighed heavily. "All right. I'll make you a deal. You get one question a day, and _I_ get to ask you one about yourself. Eyes for eye," he proposed.

She bit her lip, thinking about how easy it would be to tell him too much. He was eerily observant from what she could tell. But she really wanted her curiosity sated. "What's it like growing up under the Qun?"

He tipped his head. "Does this mean we have a deal, boss?"

"Only if you answer," she said with a chuckle.

He tipped his head, taking another sip of his flask before answering. "The Tamassrans raise us in these units of kids all our own age. They're like teachers or Chantry sisters. They also help figure out what jobs we should do. They had me pegged for military work early on. When they learned I could hit stuff _and_ lie, they started training me for the Ben-Hassrath."

"So the Qun decided what work you would do? You didn't get a choice?"

"I could have acted like I didn't like hitting things, I guess. But why would I do that? I was good at my work, I liked doing it. Far as I can tell, the Tamassrans made the right call." He pressed his lips together. "And I believe that was two questions, but I'll let it slide because they were related. My turn."

Cirilla sat back, setting her palms on her knees. Bull watched her every move and likely realized she was hoping she didn't give away her identity. Could he sense her nerves? "Okay. Tit for tat. Ask me anything."

He smirked and tucked his flask away. "What is your favorite color?"

She drew back, a frown creasing her brow. "My favorite color?" he nodded slowly, the smirk never leaving his face. She thought for a moment and hesitantly said, "green?"

He flicked his one eye to her palm which she had covered with a less holey glove. "Well, I suppose that's convenient for you."

The ridiculousness of his question and the situation in general made her chuckle softly. "I suppose it is at that." She reached up and tucked her hair behind an ear, feeling like that simple question had opened her up to her core. "You don't... have anything more interesting to ask?"

He shook his head slowly. "Nah, I'm good. You just make sure tomorrow's question is a good one."

She felt her mouth grinning stupidly as she stood from her seat. "Only if you promise the same."

He guffawed as she left him to head back into the village and talk to some of the others.

Cirilla made a point to save her trek down to the stables the next day for the evening. She wanted to keep Bull waiting, if he was indeed waiting. She saw the exchange as a game, but she wasn't sure if he was invested as she was. As she ate her dinner in the tavern, she saw Krem walk in by himself. He nodded to her politely and she waved him over. Looking a bit shocked, he made his way to her and sat down across the table. "Can I help you with anything, your worship?"

She dipped the tip of her spoon in the stew in front of her and stirred it slowly. "Actually, I'd like to know more about the Iron Bull." She felt awful beckoning Krem over to talk about Bull instead of himself, but he seemed to calm when he heard the question.

He grinned and took the mug of ale that was brought to him in hand. "The chief. First time I met him, he saved my life. I never thought I'd work for a Qunari, but he grows on you. He's not like any commander I've ever worked for, that's for damn sure."

"How is he as a commander?" she asked, eager for any information.

"If you know what you're doing and hold up your end, he's easy. He doesn't accept any less. He keeps us alive, he leads from the front, and if you've an idea that'll win the fight, he listens. I've seen bands whose captains had to prove they were swingin' the biggest sword. Bull isn't like that. The Chargers might give him more lip than you'd expect, but every one of us would lay down our lives for the big ass." His smile was easy and fond.

Cirilla smiled along with him and took a few more bites before continuing. "How did a Tevinter soldier wind up in a Qunari spy's mercenary company?"

He grinned. "I wasn't a soldier at the time. I was in some trouble and trying to flee Tevinter. A tribune and his men caught me in a border town tavern. They meant to make an example of me. Bull killed them. Gave up his eye doing it. He patched me up and asked if I was looking for work. I've been putting up with his jokes ever since."

"_That's _how he lost the eye?" she asked. It was nice to know that it had gone to a good cause.

"Yes. The guards had me on the tavern floor when Bull came inside and yelled for them to stop. One of them saw trouble coming and figured he'd finish me off. The guard had a flail. Bull put himself between me and the blow. Big horned idiot. Didn't even know me." Krem sighed heavily and took a drink of his ale.

"Is it strange to work for a Qunari?" Avoiding the apparently painful story of Krem's origin seemed a good idea until they knew each other better.

Krem shrugged. "He hasn't tried to convert us to the Qun, if that's what you're asking. The Bull's Chargers don't care who you light a candle for, so long as your shield stays up. If he hadn't told me he was Ben-Hassrath, I'd've thought he'd left that life behind."

"I didn't expect he'd tell you all that he was a spy." She and Bull had a very different view on what sort of personal information you should share.

"Not the whole band, but those who've been around long enough to trust. He figures most of us would find out sooner or later, and it should come from him. Eyes to eye, he says..." Bull had used almost that same phrase on her the previous day. "It's never messed up a job. He just writes letters back home. Lot of the boys write letters back home."

While Krem finished his ale and Cirilla scooped up the last dregs of her supper, they chatted a bit more, pretty much about nothing in particular. Krem was a good person. When she was finished, Cirilla bade him happy drinking and grabbed a large mug of the strongest ale the tavern carried, and a smaller dose for herself. She then made her way down to the stables to find Bull. He watched her approach with a smirk. She handed him the drink and he saluted her with the mug as she sat. "So what would you like to know today, boss?"

She sipped her own ale, wiped the foam from her upper lip and then asked. "How is everyday life different for Qunari?"

"Depends on your job, I guess. Some are just about the same. A baker in Val Royeaux gets up, gets dressed, and starts work. A baker in Par Vollen does the same thing. They don't care about the empire or the Qun. Mostly, they worry about breaking eggs and hope the dough rises right."

"It can't be exactly the same," she protested, generalizing from what she had heard of he Qunari. "The Qunari have no personal freedoms."

He snorted. "How many personal freedoms do you figure that baker in Val Royeaux has? Life isn't about freedom. The baker in Par Vollen wonders if she'll be given enough eggs to do her work. Will they come on time? Will the kitchen workers get her bread while it's fresh, or will they come late and blame her 'cause it's stale? Same crap in Val Royeaux. People are just people." He drank more of the ale and she mirrored him, considering his answer. "Is it my turn?"

"I suppose so," she agreed, wondering if his question would be as seemingly innocent as the day before. She was not disappointed.

"What's your favorite animal?" he asked.

"Like in general, or just the most useful, or the cutest...?" she teased.

"Oh, come on," he groaned. "It's a simple question. Off the top of your head without over thinking it. Go."

"Fennec," she said, offering the first thing that came to mind.

He chuffed. "I have to be real careful in tall grass not to step on those things. If they didn't make that chittering sound, I'd be scraping fox off my boot daily."

She snorted, taking another long gulp of her ale. "Is stepping on adorable animals a hobby or simply a demand of the Qun?"

He let out a loud guffawing laugh, his head thrown back in mirth. "That was a good one, boss. Now, this... This is the side of you that I like... Not the one hiding behind all that Herald crap."

"Who says I'm hiding?" she wondered.

"When you need to analyze the simplest question under the sun, you're buying time to think up the proper answer that won't let anyone see who you are. You probably aren't even doing it on purpose. It's second nature to you by now."

She shuddered at his keen observation. She hid her discomfort behind another sip of ale. When was the last time she had actually had a favorite color? Or favorite animal? All of her choices were catered to those around her that she needed to charm. Even her subtle flirtations were all placed into conversations with the utmost care, and she didn't even mean them seriously. Everything was a part of the Game. She had been playing so long that she had become one with it. She set her empty mug down beside her and sat straighter, a realization hitting her. "There's... something I need to do."

She stood and rushed from the Charger's camp, through Haven and into the Chantry. Nearly breathless, she stopped outside Josephine's office and took a deep breath around her racing heart. She reached her shaking hand out to the door knob and then thought better of just bursting in. She balled her fist and rapped casually on the reinforced wooden door. Josehine's sing song voice answered and Cirilla followed it inside. When she stood in front of the ambassador, her throat closed over, suddenly making it difficult for her to speak. Josephine smiled sweetly as she always did and asked. "Did you need something, my lady."

"Trevelyan..." Cirilla whispered.

"Pardon me?" Josephine asked, tipping her head.

Cirilla swallowed and looked up from where she had steadfastly been staring at the floor. "Cirilla Trevelyan. Youngest daughter of Bann Trevelyan of Ostwick."

Josephine's jaw fell open briefly before she snapped it closed. "You are the missing Trevelyan? Oh dear..." she paused and considered, a small frown creasing her brow. "Have you told anyone else?"

Cirilla shook her head. She felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. "I... I just... Someone needed to know."

Josephine set her quill down and folded her hands. "I can fully understand why you believe it best that no one should be aware of your identity. May I ask, why you finally decided to come to me?"

Cirilla chuckled in self deprecation. "It's recently come to my attention that I am completely unaware of who I _actually_ am anymore. If I am to be Andraste's Herald, that needs to change. _I_ need to change."

Josephine looked her over and considered again. "If you wish to be more honest with those around you, I will not hinder your wishes, but I do believe that it may be best to keep your true identity between us, at least for the time being. The state of the Inquisition is delicate. One misstep and we could be ruined."

Cirilla lowered her eyes. "I understand, ambassador. Thank you for the advice."

Cirilla heard the feet of Josephine's chair scrape the stone floor and the woman was around the desk hugging her in an instant. "You play the Game well, Ciri. You should not be ashamed. You and I both know the toll it takes. It takes a brilliant mind to play as masterfully as you have been these past months."

"Thank you," Cirilla said with a small chuckle. "I'm grateful. And I promise, everything I ever told you was the truth."


	4. Shred of Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cirilla makes a decision for the Inquisition's leaders when she gets tired of waiting for them to stop arguing.

While Cirilla waited for the leadership to figure out what they wanted to do, another mission came to her attention. She had slipped into the war room early in the morning to gather information and found a report with a scribbling at the bottom in Cullen's hand.

_Inquisition Soldiers have gone missing in the marshy reaches of southern Ferelden. Because the region is largely uncharted, finding them will be difficult, but the Inquisition's advisers are determined to find out what happened and, if possible, bring their people back alive._

While she was looking over the report, the man himself entered the war room with a click of the heavy door as he pushed it open. When he noticed he was not alone, he started briefly before his arm lifted to rub at the back of his neck, the papers in his hand dangling at his side. "Ah, Lady Herald. I didn't see... what are you doing in here?"

She chuckled, plucking up the parchment with the report on it. "Looking for something to sate the boredom, Commander. And I believe I found it." She handed the paper over to him and he eyed her with interest before glancing down at the report.

He frowned slightly. "The Mire?"

"Sure," she said excitedly. "It'll give me a chance to take out The Iron Bull and see how he fits with the team. I'm sure you don't have many volunteers to go squelching through a bog."

Cullen hesitated briefly, eyeing her, but then he sighed."Very well. Maker knows I can't seem to get anyone else to take this seriously."

"Great!" She patted his chest over his cuirass and smirked. "I'll go get ready and gather the others while you get Scout Harding ahead of us to set up a forward camp and get a read on the locals."

With that, she, Bull, Sera and Varric were gearing up and heading south east. The trip was fairly swift until they reached the forest. The trees grew thick and viney, and the humidity in the air was sweltering. Cirilla almost preferred the icy rain of the Storm Coast. They found Harding and a few other officers set up inside the perimeter of a mostly abandoned village. "Thank you for coming," the dwarf said in a slightly less chipper tone than Cirilla was used to. "Maybe you can solve this mess. Our missing patrols are being held hostage by Avvar. Barbarians from the mountains."

Cirilla glanced around and scowled. "What are they doing in a bog?"

"That's the thing. Their leader... He wants them to fight you. Because you're the Herald of Andraste."

"What do they have against Andraste?" Cirilla knew that the Avvar believed in different gods, but it shouldn't be a reason to challenge her.

"Well, the Avvar think there are gods in nature. As in, the sky has a god, and the forest. The Avvar say you're claiming to be sent by one, and they'll challenge the will of your god with their own. I think their leader is just a boastful little prick who wants to brag he killed you." Harding said defensively.

Cirilla rolled her eyes. "I've survived demons. I think I can handle myself against some southern barbarians."

"Yeah, you'd think, but they're a brawny bunch. Getting to our troops won't be easy. You'll have to fight your way through undead... Wait... you're not squeamish about undead are you?" Harding's teasing tone had returned as she set a lopsided grin on Cirilla.

"They're not on the list of my favorite monsters," Cirilla shuddered with a chuckle.

"You'll want to stay out of the water, then," Harding warned. "The Avvar are holed up in the castle on the other side of the Fallow Mire. Maker willing, the Inquisition's people are still alive." Harding gave Cirilla an encouraging pat to the elbow before turning to take care of camp business before heading back to Haven for her next assignment.

"Don't worry, boss. We'll keep the squishy shits off of you." Bull said teasingly.

She snorted. "I'll kill them if I have to, but just remember, I need to get closer than the rest of you. I'd rather not spend the next week smelling like bog rot."

"Urgh," Sera said, her lip curling in disgust. "I'm glad I've got arrows."

They fought their way through the marsh, their boots sinking deep into the muddy terrain. The effort to pull them loose with each step was making the constant humidity and the burning piles of plague victims along the roads even more unbearable. Cirilla's daggers were slipping in her grip from sweat and moisture.

"You know, every time you leave Haven, your hair ends up plastered to your face," Bull commented to her wryly. "Are you always this wet, boss?"

She snorted. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Sera sniggered and Varric snorted along with her. Bull grunted. "Ach, you know what I meant. You guys just made it weird."

"So does that count as your question for today?" She asked with a smirk.

"That depends on what your question is," he said with a shrug of his broad shoulders.

When they finally made it to the castle through a thick wave of corpses, it was a short jaunt up to where the Avvar were camped. The castle was in disrepair, piles of rubble and muck clogging the floor. Without preamble, the Avvar leader heaved his huge two-handed greataxe and shouted, "Herald of Andraste! Face me!"

He and about a dozen more men that were nearly as large as Bull charged at her. Arrows started to fly and Cirilla drew her daggers, dancing around the chaos. She slipped in and out of the fray, heading for the leader. The poison on her daggers had long since worn off while she was dealing with the undead. She was going to have to do this the old fashioned way. Singing under her breath, she felt the enchantments on her daggers coming to life. As she swiped and twirled around the leader, his ax swinging for her head and coming dangerously close a few times, her feet fell into the melody, her voice rising and her movements getting swifter. The large man began to flag, sweating profusely, his axe lifting slower and slower each time he had to pick it up off the ground after missing her. It gave her dozens of opportunities to slip behind him and finish things, but she was enjoying toying with him. How dare he challenge her or Andraste? He roared aloud in anger and abandoned his ax, throwing her off guard as he barreled at her with meaty fists. He landed his first backhand across her face and she stumbled backward, her song halted. She recovered quickly, dipping beneath his second swing. She was smaller and more nimble than he was. When she ducked a third punch, she rolled around him and stabbed for his back. Her dagger bit his flesh, but he pulled away before it went too deep. He whirled around with eyes only for her. She returned the favor, her vision tunneling to the man in front of her. After a few moments of the dance continuing, she heard Bull shouting to her. She flicked her eyes from the Avvar to see what he needed. There was an archer with an arrow drawn and aimed for her. Her eyes widened and she felt the leader advancing to take advantage of her distraction. When the bow released, she had a split second to decide which direction to go. Down the stairs and risk losing her balance on the slick ground, or into the leader's reach. Her decision was made for her when there was suddenly a very large and pissed off Qunari between her and the speeding arrow. A thunk told her the arrow made contact and Bull charged with a shout, the air thinning around them. She saw him swing his ax and then returned to the leader. He was nearly on top of her and she twisted away from his grasping hands hearing Bull's ax taking the archer's head. The head rolled down the stairs and Cirilla dropped to a knee and stabbed upwards at the bleeding Avvar as he made his final charge. Hot sticky blood dripped up her arm to her elbow. She pulled her dagger free and the Avvar fell. Cirilla jumped up and quickly scanned for more threats. With the field cleared, she rushed over to Bull.

"Bull!" she shouted.

When he turned from admiring his decapitation, there was an arrow sticking out of his right shoulder, level with where her forehead stood. "I'm fine boss," he grunted, yanking the arrow free of his flesh and a stream of blood trickling down his chest. "Benefits of being a Reaver with thick skin." He twirled and showed her the arrow with a grin before tossing it over his shoulder.

She approached him, pulling a clean bit of dressing from her pack and gently pressing it against the wound. Continuing to grin at her, he placed his giant hand over hers to take over the burden of holding the dressing in place. "You big idiot," she scolded slowly pulling her hand out from under his, her fingers lingering on his chest before she realized what she was doing. "I could have dodged that."

He chuckled. "Well, because of me, you didn't have to, and you took out that asshole. Win win."

Varric's voice interrupted. "Hey, Ribbons! We got a locked door over here." She spun, nearly forgetting the Inquisition soldiers. She jogged over and Sera was already picking the lock on the door. Bull sidled up behind her. "You all right, Tiny?"

Bull nodded and pulled the dressing away from the wound. The bleeding had slowed to a crawl and Cirilla rolled her eyes, pulling out another bandage and tending to the wound while Sera did her work. "We'll clean this up properly once we make camp outside this place."

"Sure thing, boss," Bull agreed.

The door clicked open and in the small room beyond were a group of Inquisition soldiers huddled together. After getting them all on their feet and headed in the right direction, they too left the mire.

That evening, they got as far from the muck as they could and found shelter on the outskirts of the wilds. After they cleaned up and ate, Cirilla sidled over to Bull. "Mind if I take a look?"

"Hm?" he looked confused for a moment and she wiggled her fingers at his bandage with a smirk. "Oh... sure."

She sat down on a log beside him where he was perched cross-legged on the ground and pulled her pack up beside her. She pulled out her elfroot stash and readied a clean bandage. She then doused a rag with alcohol and set it aside. "Are you ready to ask your question?" she wondered distractedly as she peeled the original bandage loose and surveyed the wound. It wasn't deep, but it looked jagged. She picked up the alcohol soaked rag and placed her free hand on his shoulder to keep him from flinching away when she pressed the stinging liquid to the area.

He hissed lightly, but didn't move. "You first."

Gently clearing the dried blood from around the wound, she nodded. "I heard there's no marriage among the Qunari."

He tipped his head, the rest of him still so she could work. "Yeah, that's true. Qunari love our friends like anyone does, but we don't have sex with them."

In her distraction, she asked a silly question, immediately regretting it. "Qunari don't have sex?"

He chuckled. "Oh, we _definitely_ have sex. There are Tamassrans who pop your cork whenever you need it."

She glanced away from her ministrations to cock a brow at him. "Seriously?"

"Yeah," he shrugged slightly. "It's not a big deal like it is here. It's like... I don't know, going to see a healer?" he waved his free hand at what she was doing. "Sometimes it's this long involved thing. It takes all day, leaves you walking funny..." his voice had taken on a bit of a rumble as he focused on her while he spoke. "Other times, you're in and out in five minutes." He clicked his tongue in demonstration and waved. " 'Thank you, see you next week'."

"So you've never really 'made love'? Connected with someone in both body _and_ soul?" she asked, remembering a few of the times when she had actually felt something for the people she was sleeping with.

"I don't know. One time they used this thing called the Sartoh Nehrappan. It's a leather-wrapped rod on a harness..." he chuckled. "That wasn't really my soul, though. Also, there were more than two people."

Cirilla cleared her throat and plucked a few of the elfroot leaves from the pile. Without a mortar and pestle handy, she stuck the leaves in her mouth and improvised, grinding them with her teeth. Then she packed them in his wound to expedite the healing process. Once she was finished, she covered it all with a clean bandage and then started to clean up her supplies. "I guess that makes it your turn."

He watched her work, and then spoke. "We've been on the road together for enough time for me to watch you move. I've also heard you humming and singing when you think no one's listening, or if you're distracted. Everyone seems to have a nickname for you..."

"Did you have a question, or just observations?" she asked, suddenly defensive and a little bit shaky that he could have figured her out so easily.

He held up his palms defensively to show he meant no harm. "Look, I'm Ben-Hassrath. It's my job to notice things. I just thought, in the spirit of eyes for eye, you know what I am, so I should let you know we're even. You're a bard. A pretty good one too. It took me a while to figure it out."

"What happens now that you know?" she asked suspiciously.

He rested his large hand on her shoulder to ease her tension. "Nothing. It's not my secret to tell. From now on though, it would be nice to not have to sift through lies every time we have a conversation."

She felt herself deflating. "I've been trying... It's really difficult to not constantly cater your every word to the person you're talking to, once you've been doing it for years. You actually made me realize how little of my personality is actually my own any more."

"Well, you're a natural red head, so you've got that going for you," he joked with a wink.

She sucked in a breath against the near emotional breakdown she had just had and sighed. "How exactly did we go from Sartoh Nerahppan to tearing new emotional wounds open?"

He bellowed a laugh. "You'd be surprised at the actual wounds that thing might open. Good pronunciation though."

"I have a pretty good tongue," she said with her own wink.

Back at Haven, a decision still hadn't been made. Cirilla gave her party a few days down time before announcing she was going to follow up on Leliana's lead on Warden Blackwall while they continued to bicker. Little did they know that while in the Hinterlands, she was going to take matters into her own hands. Fiona had invited her to Redcliffe and she was going to go and have a look.

They came to the Inquisition forward camp near Lake Luthias around midday. Cirilla followed the report to a small fishing hut at the edge of the lake. Outside, a tall man in heavy, padded armor was pacing in front of a nervous looking group of farmers. His chest was emblazoned with the griffon symbol of the Wardens. This must be her man. He had long black hair slicked off his face that was covered with a two pronged beard. His light blue eyes were intense as he lectured the men on proper shield form.

She approached him carefully. "Blackwall? Warden Blackwall?"

He spun at the sound of her voice, his sword at the ready. "You're not... How do you know my name? Who sent..." He lifted his shield up with a shout to block an arrow that thunked into the wood just inches from her face. At her widened eyes he scowled. "That's it. Help or get out. We're dealing with these idiots first!" He turned from her and she jumped into action with the rest. "Conscripts! Here they come!"

A small group of bandits appeared from hiding places all around the hut. There were enough to go around and Cirilla slipped in and out of the fray, slitting throats as she went. When the bandits were dead, Blackwall stabbed his sword into the ground and sighed heavily as he inspected the bodies. "Sorry Bastards..." Then he turned to the farmers. "Good work conscripts. Even if this shouldn't have happened. They could've... well, thieves are made, not born. Take back what they stole. Go back to your families. You saved yourselves." Cirilla waited patiently with her arms crossed as he watched the men leave. Then he turned his curious gaze on her and her companions. What a sight they must be. Her, a dwarf, an elf and a Qunari. It sounded like the beginning to a bad joke if you asked her. "You're no farmer. Why do you know my name? Who are you?"

She pulled out her best diplomacy and fought the urge to be sarcastic. "I know your name because I'm an agent of the Inquisition. I'm investigating whether the disappearance of Wardens has anything to do with the murder of the Divine."

The Warden began to pace and frown. "Marker's Balls, the Wardens and the Divine? That can't... no, you're asking, so you don't really know." He paused and sighed. "First off, I didn't know they disappeared. But we do that, right? No more Blight, job done, Wardens are the first thing forgotten. But one thing I'll tell you. No Warden killed the Divine. Our purpose isn't political."

"So where are the rest of you?" she asked with a suggestive shrug.

"I haven't seen any Wardens for months. I travel alone, recruiting. Not much interest because the Archdemon is a decade dead, and no need to conscript because there's no Blight coming. Treaties give Wardens the right to take what we need. Who we need. These idiots forced this fight, so I 'conscripted' their victims. They had to do what I said, so I told them to stand. Next time, they won't need me. Grey Wardens can inspire, make you better than you think you are."

He sounded like he was speaking from personal experience. Grasping for any information, she asked. "Do you have any idea where the other Wardens could have gone?"

He shrugged. "Maybe they returned to our stronghold at Weisshaupt? That's in the Anderfels, a long way North. I don't really know. Can't imagine why they'd all disappear at once, let alone where they'd disappear to."

"Why haven't you gone missing like the rest of them?" she wondered with narrowed eyes.

He sensed her suspicion. "Well, maybe I was going to. Or maybe there's a new directive, but a runner got lost or something. My job was to recruit on my own. Planned to stay that way for months. Years."

"I wasn't aware Grey Wardens could take whatever they want."

"It's complicated. If there's a Blight, everyone has to help the effort to fight it. The treaties are ancient. Outside of Blights, it's as binding as a clever tongue can make it," he said brazenly.

"Well, thank you, Warden Blackwall, but now where does this leave us?" she believed the man. He was as clueless as Leliana. She sighed and began to head off toward Redcliffe when he stopped her.

"Inquisition... Agent, did you say? Hold a moment." She turned back to him and he moved to stand before her. "The Divine is dead, and the sky is torn. Events like these, thinking we're absent is almost as bad as thinking we're involved." She nodded in agreement, curious for him to continue. "If you're trying to put things right, maybe you need a Warden. Maybe you need me."

She sized him up. "The Inquisition needs all the support it can get, but what can one Grey Warden do?"

With a cheeky smile he chuckled softly. "Save the fucking world, if pressed... Look, maybe fighting demons from the sky isn't something I'm practiced at, but show me someone who is. And like I said, there are treaties. Maybe this isn't a Blight, but it's bloody well a disaster. Some will honor them. Being a Warden means something to a lot of people."

"Warden Blackwall, the Inquisition accepts your offer," Cirilla said without hesitation. He seemed a determined man, and he fought well. He was an asset.

"Good to hear," he said with a smile. "We both need to know what's going on, and perhaps I've been keeping to myself for too long. This Warden walks with the Inquisition."

It was nearing evening when Cirilla sent Blackwall on his way with a note for Leliana. They paused to camp for the night and she explained her plan to go poking around Redcliffe in the morning. When she was finished explaining, she moved off to the edge of camp to put together a few vials of poison and clean her daggers.

She started with a yelp when Bull's voice sounded by her ear. "So, were you too tired to play tonight?"

She spun to see him making himself comfortable on a bedroll close to where she sat, spreading her materials. "Maker, how are you so quiet... and no that isn't my question."

He chuckled and laid back with his hands behind his head. "I think you underestimate your own ability to sneak up and scare the crap out of me," he countered.

"I've never seen you jump once," she accused.

His shoulders shrugged. "I'm really good at hiding my reactions."

She rolled her eyes and continued to set out her things. "Let's see, what haven't I asked yet?" She paused and pretended to think as she carefully measured out the ingredients into the tiny vial and fitted it with a stopper to shake. "How do the Qunari rule themselves?"

He shrugged again. "It's pretty simple. We've got the Matriarchy, the Priesthood, and the Military. The Priesthood figures out how Qunari live in theory. The Matriarchy makes it work in practice... And the Military keeps the Qunari safe from outside threats."

She frowned, setting aside the first vial and starting on another one. His explanation sounded simple. "Does it actually work like that? Is there much infighting?"

"Not like you're thinking of. People disagree, yeah, but the priests are there to solve disagreements. In Orlais, politicking comes from people putting their own gain ahead of the gains of society. If you do that among the Qunari, the Ben-Hassrath set you straight, or kill you."

"Well, shit... with my line of work, I'm lucky I wasn't born Qunari." She put two more vials together with practiced ease and then carefully slipped them into their special pouch and put away the ingredients. She looked at him when he didn't say anything and noticed he was watching her every move. "You look like you're waiting for something," she teased.

"It really doesn't hurt to watch how you put that shit together in case I ever need an antidote," he said.

She giggled softly. "I probably would never use this on you."

"Probably?" He asked, his mouth grinning but one brow arched. It was like he was uncertain if she was joking, but he was really hoping she was. She shot him a teasing grin and his brow softened. "I think when we talk from now on, I want to be watching your face."

"How does that help?" she wondered.

"I don't know if you're aware, but your emotions and intentions are written all over your face when you talk," he pointed out. "It's how I was able to tip you so easily with those bull shit questions. Even when you lie, your muscles tell the truth."

She wiped the surprise off her face and cringed. "Orlais ruined me. I spent so much of my life wearing a mask that hiding my expressions was unnecessary. Now it seems like I am not very good at it."

"Or you just don't give a shit," he suggested. "Your charm seems to work on everyone around, even when you're not hiding. I don't think there's a single person in this Inquisition who hasn't toyed with the idea of getting you in bed every time you bat an eyelash."

"I beg to differ. I know of at least three," she corrected.

"Solas, Varric, and Vivienne," he listed and she found her jaw open again. "I know because I watch. You haven't done that... thing... with them."

"There's a 'thing'?" she gaped.

"Oh, there's a _thing._" he guffawed. "It makes it even better that you don't know you're doing it. Every time you walk away from Cullen, I have to make sure he doesn't trip over his own jaw."

"What is it?" she wondered. She knew she had said a few flirtatious things to some of the Inquisition, but she had never made it obvious. A compliment went a long way when ingratiating yourself to people.

"You have to promise you won't stop doing it if I tell you. It's fun to watch," he said, rolling onto his side to rest on his elbow and stare her down.

She shrugged. "I'll try."

"It starts out with a compliment, which is usually tailored specifically to tease, more than to flirt. And there is a difference, believe me. Then you sort of turn to the side, giving a view of your profile and your head stays a quarter turn shorter than your body so you're looking over your shoulder almost. After that, you curve the right side of your lip upwards in a coy smile while your chin drops down slightly so you can look at your prey through your ridiculously long lashes. Two slow blinks later, they need to be scraped off the floor." He described.

"Have I ever... done it to you?" she asked as her cheeks burned.

"A few times..." he admitted with a shrug.

She regained her confidence when his reaction was relaxed. "Did it work?"

"How do you think you talked me into our little game?" he asked with a lopsided grin. "I wasn't aware of who or what you were, and it kind of threw me for a loop."

"Good to know I can throw a Ben-Hassrath agent off his game," she said with a smirk, glancing down to pick up her closest dagger so she could get to work on cleaning it up.

"Well, shit, you can even do it sitting down," she said with mild surprise.

"Wait... did I just?" she asked, pausing mid reach.

He laughed loudly. "I'm so glad telling you didn't make you over think it."

"So you... _like_ when I do it to you?" she frowned.

"I don't _dislike_ it," he said with a grin.

"Remember when I said I _probably _wouldn't use those poisons on you? I'm starting to rethink my stance," she teased, casually pointing her dagger at him.

He laughed out loud again and laid back down. "I'll sleep with my eye open then."

They spotted a rift just outside Redcliffe as they approached. A guard was rushing from the gates in a panic, indicating that the rift was fairly new. Cirilla almost immediately felt her mark reacting to the Fade beyond. "Fan out," she said to the others, drawing her daggers. "It looks like the city gates are closed, so hopefully we can keep the damage to a minimum."

No demons had appeared until she got close enough, the rift responding to the proximity of her mark. With her hand tingling, she charged into the fray. Suddenly, just before she reached one of the hovering green spirits that she had learned were called wraiths, her legs felt like they were wading through molasses. The world around her sped up, making her dizzy as everything zipped past her. She tried to lift her arm and reach for the rift to disrupt it and hurt the demons that were congregated, but it was as if a fifty pound weight was tied to her wrist and slowing her down. She took a few steps and felt like she was getting nowhere while action happened all around her circumference. She watched as Bull glanced down at the ground around her and his eye locked on her. Then he reached an arm toward her and grabbed hold of her bicep, his own movement slowed to a snail's pace. He dragged her free of the strange magic and let go of her arm. "You all right, boss?"

She turned her head and took a step, avoiding the light glow of green that Bull had yanked her out of that hummed on the ground. Her movement seemed normal and she shuddered. "Yeah, I think so. Thanks." They fought through the demons, avoiding the patches of magic. From what she was seeing, there were a few that slowed things down and another pair that seemed to speed everything up. When she finally closed the rift, she was panting "What... was that?"

"I think we could have skipped these things getting weirder, don't you?" Varric asked with a snarl as he closed Bianca's arms and hitched her over his shoulder.

"There's a ton of mages in Redcliffe. Maybe Fiona will know what's going on," Cirilla suggested.

"Maker have mercy! It's over?" the guard who had been fleeing gasped as she returned from wherever she had been hiding. "Open the gates!" she called out.

From inside, the gates of Redcliffe began to open. As the iron gates crept upwards, Cirilla headed for the village. Just inside, she was greeted by a crowd of lookie loos and a single Inquisition scout. The dark skinned man headed for her and said with caution. "We've spread word the Inquisition was coming, but you should know that no one here was expecting us."

"No one?" she asked in disbelief. "Not even Grand Enchanter Fiona?"

"If she was, she hasn't told anyone," he said with a shake of his head. "We've arranged use of the tavern for the negotiations.

"Agents of the Inquisition, my apologies!" The familiar voice had her head whipping around to lay eyes on the young man she had accompanied from Orlais. Beirand. At least he had survived, but he was a threat to her anonymity. She set widened eyes on him, shaking her head almost imperceptibly and hoping the slight hesitation in his speech did not lengthen as he recognized her. "Magister Alexius is in charge now, but hasn't yet arrived. He's expected shortly." Beirand looked at her questioningly and she nearly groaned, knowing that Varric had picked up on that. Finally the boy gathered himself fully and began to ignore the fact that he knew her. Too little too late. "You can speak with the former Grand Enchanter in the meantime."

He turned and hung his head, going back toward the village proper. Varric cleared his throat. "Is it just me, or is something weird going on here?"

"It's definitely not just you. Let's go to the tavern and get the full story," she suggested.

They followed the road down into the village and then found the tavern. An iron sign hung over the door reading 'The Gull and Lantern', depicting a diving seagull with a hanging lantern clutched in it's beak. She pushed open the door and blinked to readjust her eyes to the darkness. It was a small place, like most taverns with an upstairs that likely rented rooms to travelers. Inside seemed to be naught but mages and a few townsfolk that were doing anything but drinking. Toward a row of tables in the back, Fiona stood with a few other mages, a dim lantern illuminating her dark hair and casting a shadow across her serious expression. "Welcome, agents of the Inquisition." Beirand was standing near the stairs that led up to the rooms and looking anywhere but at her. Little did he know, the damage was done. "What has brought you to Redcliffe?"

Cirilla turned her head away from Beirand and narrowed her eyes at the Grand Enchanter. "Is this some sort of test? We're here because you invited us in Val Royeaux."

"You must be mistaken," Fiona said with a frown. "I haven't been to Val Royeaux since before the Conclave."

Bull's grunt of disapproval matched her own feelings. "There is no mistake," she insisted. "While the templars were leaving, you came to Val Royeaux and asked me here." She had Varric right beside her who could vouch for her story.

"The templars left Val Royeaux? Where did they go?" Fiona gasped in genuine shock. "That sounds... why does that sound so strange?" She shook her head as if dazed and then looked back up at Cirilla. "Whoever... or whatever brought you here, the situation has changed. The free mages have already... pledged themselves to the service of the Tevinter Imperium."

Bull almost growled, gripping her arm and drawing her attention. "This right here is why you can't trust mages."

"Andraste's ass," Varric added. "I'm trying to think of a single worse thing you could have done. And I've got nothing."

"As one indentured to a magister, I no longer have the authority to negotiate with you," Fiona said, her tone strained.

Cirilla felt Bull's lingering hand sliding away as she closed her shocked mouth and replaced it with a frowning brow. "What about the giant hole in the veil that's spewing demons everywhere? You're just going to pretend it isn't there?"

Fiona shook her head. "I am not forgetting the Breach, but we can only fight one war at a time," she replied with desperation. "The templar threat was immediate. If we live, we can worry about the torn veil."

The tavern door clicked open, allowing a bit of sunlight into the darkness. Clearly Tevinter garb was silhouetted in the ray as several men made their way inside and the door closed behind them. Cirilla again adjusted her eyes to see their faces. The one in the front was a middle aged man with weathered features. His hooded robes were a deep burgundy and reinforced with a scale armor shirt peeking out at the neck and sleeves. He was wearing a fabricated smile and followed by a similarly armored younger man in yellow, his hood pulled down to reveal nearly shorn black hair and a thin stubble around his mouth. Cirilla noted the resemblance. The older man spoke through his false smile. "Welcome, my friends! I apologize for not greeting you earlier."

"Agents of the Inquisition, allow me to introduce Magister Gereon Alexius," Fiona said formally.

"The southern mages are under my command," the man said, tipping his head in greeting. Then he set hungry eyes on Cirilla and her marked hand. "And you are the survivor, yes? The one from the Fade? Interesting."

Cirilla crossed her arms and set a disapproving scowl on the man. "I'd like to know more about this alliance between the rebel mages and the Imperium."

"Certainly," he obliged. "What specifically do you wish to know?"

"I'm not clear on when, exactly, you negotiated this arrangement with Fiona," Cirilla began.

He put on a slight pout that wrinkled the skin around his lips. "When the Conclave was destroyed, these poor souls faced the brutality of the templars, who rushed to attack them. It could only be through divine providence that I arrived when I did."

Fiona frowned angrily. "It was certainly... very timely."

"What does the Imperium gain from taking rebel mages under it's wing?" From what Cirilla understood, Tevinter was usually very insular and even had mages living in the country that were treated poorly.

Alexius shrugged. "For the moment, the southern mages are a considerable expense. After they are properly trained, they will join our legion."

Fiona immediately objected. "You said not all my people would be military! There are children, those not suited..."

"And one day, I'm sure they will all be productive citizens of the Imperium. When their debts are paid," Alexius said threateningly.

Cirilla recognized that her questions were causing a stir, so she pressed her lips together as Alexius' glare at Fiona faded and he returned his attention to her. She sighed inaudibly and said, "I'm here to get mages to close the Breach."

"Right to business! I understand, of course," Alexius said, gesturing her to a nearby table. They moved to sit and Alexius looked to the younger man who had been so far quiet. "Felix, would you send for a scribe, please?" The young man bowed and then turned away. "Pardon my manners. My son Felix, friends. I am not surprised you're here. Containing the Breach is not a feat that many could even attempt. There is not telling how many mages would be needed for such an endeavor. Ambitious, indeed."

Alexius certainly liked the sound of his own voice as he lorded his advantage over them. Cirilla schooled her expression away from the disgust she felt and asked, "Does that mean you'll lend your mages to our cause?"

"There will have to be..." he was cut off as Felix returned, looking a bit paler and walking a little wobbly. Cirilla hopped up from her chair as he stumbled, catching him before he fell. His hand jammed something into her fingers and he squeezed her hand purposefully before pulling his hand from hers and leaving a folded up parchment in her palm. She said nothing as Alexius gasped in terror. "Felix!"

"I'm so sorry," Felix apologized in a rough voice. "Please forgive my clumsiness, my lady."

"Are you all right?" Alexius asked in concern as Felix righted himself, pulling away from Cirilla.

"I'm fine, Father." Felix insisted.

"Come, I'll get your powders. Please excuse me, friends. We will have to continue this another time," Alexius announced. "Fiona, I require your assistance back at the castle."

"I don't mean to trouble everyone," Felix apologized as he followed Fiona and his father out.

"I shall send word to the Inquisition. We will conclude this business at a later date." Their exit took most of the tavern's clientele with them.

Cirilla waited for the door to click shut, turning herself to face Bull so her business was concealed then unfolded the note that Felix had slipped her. The handwriting was swirly and neat and easy to read. "Come to the Chantry. You are in danger." she read just loud enough for her companions to hear.

"Ooh, very mysterious," Varric commented.

"There's no telling who or what will be waiting for us in that Chantry," Cirilla mused.

"Only one way to find out," Varric agreed, patting her elbow.

She balled up the parchment and tossed it into the fireplace beside them and sighed. "All right, listen. There is something I need to do and I promise I will explain later at camp after we settle this Chantry business. Right now, I need you guys to trust me, okay?"

Bull's brow furrowed, and Varric's rose. Sera looked at her inquisitively. "What're you on about, Ciri?"

"I'll explain later." She patted Sera's shoulder in reassurance and hurried over to the corner where Beirand was still standing awkwardly.

She approached him, his eyes widening before he looked at her curiously. "Inquisition, huh? I wish to Holy Andraste you'd gotten here sooner. These Tevinters make my shoulder blades itch."

"Are you all right, Beirand?" Cirilla asked him softly, keeping their conversation private.

"I should be asking you that. Anselmo thinks you're dead!" he hissed.

"I know. I am kind of in a predicament, but I think my time is up. I'm not going to be able to keep my identity hidden any longer. I never meant to leave him hanging, but it's hard to write a letter when your spymaster is actively trying to figure out who you are. I didn't have a choice." She held up her palm, showing him the mark.

"So that was you?!" Beirand gasped.

She nodded. "Look, right now, you might be exactly what I need... You're not happy with this new alliance?"

He shook his head with a sour look on his face. "Something's not right about that lot. They're not like us. Magic or no, I'd rather count myself among the decent folk than stand with magisters."

"How did the Grand Enchanter end up working with Tevinter?" she asked. Something was definitely off.

Beirand shrugged. "One minute, we were bracing for the templars to attack. He next, we had a magister ally. It was a stroke of luck that's given us an edge... in a way. Out of the frying pan..."

She wrapped a hand around Beirand's arm. "Thank you Beirand. I'm going to do what I can to fix this, but could you maybe try and get me some more information?"

"I'll... I'll do what I can. Annie always spoke so highly of you. I would be glad to help," he said nervously.

She patted his arm with a regretful smile, wishing she didn't need to use him, and headed back to her companions. "Let's head to the Chantry."

The outside of the Chantry looked quiet, as any Chantry would, but Cirilla's nose was twitching. Maker knew what they were walking into. She kept her hands close to her daggers as she and Bull pushed open the heavy doors. The peaceful facade immediately dissolved as they entered to a large, humming rift and another Tevinter mage fighting off demons with his staff like it was a quarterstaff. When he looked up at the interruption and noticed them, his eyes quickly flicked to her hand and he shot her a dazzling, straight white grin. "Good! You're finally here! Now help me close this, would you?"

Cirilla jumped into the fray as the mage went back to beating off demons with his staff, adding magic to the mix now that he had allies and wouldn't be exhausting his mana stores. There were more of the odd patches of slow down and speed up magic around them that she avoided as best she could. A dozen demons later, Cirilla ran up to the rift and closed it, the mage still standing beneath it. When the rift snapped shut, the Fade stuff rained down around him, but he didn't seem to mind, looking at her curiously.

His head was tipped, his lips half raised in a smirk. They were thick and dressed up with a neatly groomed handlebar mustache and small soul patch. His dark brown hair was immaculately styled for having been fighting off demons. He had high cheekbones and a slightly hooked nose that worked wonders with his light brown eyes and deeply tan skin tone. She noted his eyes were marked with a thin line of khol. There were shimmering jewels on every one of his fingers, and his clothing was similarly decked in shiny buckles and seemingly unnecessary bits of polished silverite. His mage robes were draped over the leather and cloth, folded and tied up stylishly. It all seemed to work in his favor as Cirilla had to shake herself from staring as he addressed her. "Fascinating. How does that work, exactly?" When she simply looked at him, wondering who in the Maker's name he was, he chuckled heartily. "You don't even know, do you? You just wiggle your fingers, and Boom! Rift closes." He demonstrated the word boom with his own hands, the rings catching her eyes again.

She shook her head. "Who are you?" she managed.

"Ah. Getting ahead of myself again, I see." He smiled and offered a short bow of greeting. "Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous. How do you do?"

Bull must have noticed her distraction and grunted. "Watch yourself. The pretty ones are always the worst."

She glanced at him as Dorian casually glanced at his fingernails. "Suspicious friends you have here. Magister Alexius was once my mentor, so my assistance should be valuable... as I'm sure you can imagine."

"I was expecting Felix to be here," she pointed out, glancing around to be sure she hadn't missed him.

Dorian shrugged. "I'm sure he's on his way. He was to give you the note, then meet us here after ditching his father," he explained.

"Alexius couldn't jump to Felix's side fast enough when he pretended to be faint. Is something wrong with him?" she wondered.

"He's had some lingering illness for months. Felix is an only child, and Alexius is being a mother hen, most likely," Dorian said with a nod.

"Are _you_ a magister?" Cirilla asked, making Dorian roll his eyes in exasperation.

"All right. Let's say this once. I'm a mage from Tevinter, but not a member of the Magsiterium. I know southerners use the terms interchangeably, but that only makes you sound like barbarians."

She dropped the clearly sore subject and asked, "You're betraying your mentor because...?"

"Alexius _was_ my mentor. Meaning he's not any longer, not for some time. Look, you must know there's danger. That should be obvious even without the note. Let's start with Alexius claiming the allegiance of the mage rebels out from under you. As if by magic, yes? Which is exactly right. To reach Redcliffe before the Inquisition, Alexius distorted time itself."

Cirilla understood immediately why the magic of these rifts was messing with time. "He arranged it so he could arrive here just after the Divine died?"

Dorian nodded his head with a respectful smile. "You catch on quick."

Sera butted in. "You don't believe this, do you? It's daft."

Dorian continued to appraise Cirilla with that same curious yet impressed smile. "The rift you closed here? You saw how it twisted time around itself, sped some things up and slowed others down. Soon there will be more like it, and they'll appear further and further away from Redcliffe. The magic Alexius is using is wildly unstable, and it's unraveling the world."

Cirilla crossed her arms. He was being a mite dramatic. "You're asking me to take a lot on faith."

The door opened and closed behind her and she glanced around to see Felix. Dorian continued to speak to her, his nose wrinkling. "I know what I'm talking about. I helped develop this magic. When I was still his apprentice, it was pure theory. Alexius could never get it to work. What I don't understand is why he's doing it? Ripping time to shreds just to gain a few hundred lackeys?" Dorian crossed his arms thoughtfully, the finger of his left hand tapping his lips.

"He didn't do it for them," Felix chimed in.

"Took you long enough," Dorian greeted the young man with a wide smile. "Is he getting suspicious?"

Felix shook his head. "No, but I shouldn't have played the illness card. I thought he'd be fussing over me all day." Felix turned his attention to Cirilla and continued. "My father's joined a cult. Tevinter supremacists. They call themselves 'Venatori'. And I can tell you one thing, whatever he's done for them, he's done it to get to you."

Cirilla frowned. "Why would he rearrange time and indenture the mage rebellion just to get to me?"

"They're obsessed with you, but I don't know why. Perhaps because you survived the Temple of Sacred Ashes?" Felix shrugged.

"You _can_ close the rifts. Maybe there's a connection? Or they see you as a threat?" Dorian puzzled.

"If the Venatori are behind those rifts, or the Breach in the sky, they're even worse than I thought," Felix shuddered.

"Alexius is your father. Why are you working against him?" she asked.

"For the same reason Dorian works against him. I love my father, and I love my country. But this? Cults? Time magic? What he's doing now is madness. For his own sake, you have to stop him."

"It would also be nice if he didn't rip a hole in time. There's already a hole in the sky," Dorian added.

Cirilla sighed. "Do you have any suggestions?"

"You know you're his target. Expecting the trap is the first step in turning it to your advantage," Dorian pointed out. "I can't stay in Redcliffe. Alexius doesn't know I'm here, and I want to keep it that way for now. But whenever you're ready to deal with him, I want to be there. I'll be in touch." He started to walk away, but then turned a devilish grin on Felix and pressed his palms together before his chest. "And Felix? Try not to get yourself killed."

"There are worse things than dying, Dorian," Felix whispered to Dorian's retreating back. He nodded a farewell and left them as well.

Sera snorted, and put on a voice, " 'Oh, demons don't scare me, I'll fight ten at once.' Ease up, big horse."

"Anyone can fight ten demons at once. Not dying while you do it? That's the tricky part," Varric pointed out.

Cirilla had to admit that she was also impressed. Dorian had held his own for Maker knew how long in the Chantry without barely breaking a sweat. That was damned good, even as if he spoke like he was on a stage.

They left Redcliffe and traveled toward Haven. That night, they set camp along the road, Cirilla swallowing the lump in her throat as she realized she owed them all an explanation. With everything that was happening, the Inquisition needed to know who she was. It was time. She dropped the stick she had been poking at the fire with and stood, brushing dirt from her butt before clearing her throat. "I promised you all an explanation. I think it's time you knew who I really was, and what I was doing at the Conclave."

All three of her companions turned to face her with varying degrees of curiosity, based on what they already knew. "Go on, Ribbons." Varric urged her gently.

She heaved in a breath and found her hands wringing together. "The mage in the tavern... the one who greeted us outside Redcliffe. His name is Beirand. He grew up in the Spire. His uncle, Anselmo Tourneur, was my patron."

Varric chuckled. "Wait... you were a bard?"

"That's not the best part," Cirilla agreed. "My full name is Cirilla Trevelyan of Ostwick."

"Holy shit!" Varric said slowly, enunciating every syllable.

"What's the big deal?" Sera asked.

Varric chuckled again as is he were receiving literary gold. "Her family is Marcher nobility. If memory serves, the youngest daughter was promised to the Chantry, but before she could take her vows, she disappeared. That was... what? Eight years ago?"

"Seven," she corrected.

"So, why were you at the Conclave?" Bull asked with his eye studying her carefully. He had known what she was, but not who. She silently hoped he didn't think less of her for her confession.

"Anslemo had me escort his nephew to Redcliffe to save him from the templars in Val Royeaux. Once I left Beirand, Anselmo tasked me with attending the Conclave and reporting back what the outcome was," she explained. "When whatever happened, happened, I was sort of sucked into the Inquisition. I was reluctant at first, but with this, I'm sort of the only one who can fix this mess." she held up her marked hand.

They all stared at her, absorbing the information. None of them looked angry which made her breathe a sigh of relief. Varric was the first one up. "I need to write this down. This is too good," he said with a chuckle. "Can I be there when you tell the Seeker?"

"No," Cirilla chuckled as well.

"You sure enough don't act like any of the other bards or nobles I've ever met," Sera said before getting up as well to head for her bedroll.

Bull simply nodded and offered her a brief smile of encouragement that drew her to his side. Once she was sitting, he said, "I think all of my questions have been answered, but if you still want to ask me something..."

She giggled and nudged him with her shoulder. "I will never run out of questions. It's my job to know about the history and lives of all cultures."

He bumped back into her, their arms touching. "Ask away, boss."

"Do you ever think about what would happen if the Qunari conquered Orlais or Ferelden?"

He raised a brow, but answered. "Some folks, like Cassandra or Cullen, would do fine... If they didn't die fighting. Those two love rules. But the mages..." he flinched, and she could feel it with him so close. "Can you imagine Solas trying his Fade-dreaming under the Qun? Or Vivienne doing her political bullshit? Both Sera and Varric would mouth off until they ended up reeducated... drugged until their minds broke. So, to answer your question... No, I don't think about it much at all."

She glanced up at him and caught him studying her. Was he wondering what would happen to her if the Qunari invaded? "I'm sorry."

He brushed it off, nudging her again. "Ach, curiosity is nothing to apologize for, but since that was such a shitty question, I'm going to give you another chance. I'm not ready to go to sleep yet."

She smiled and glanced away to think for a moment. "Okay... The word 'Qunari'... is that the race or the religion?"

"Both, kind of," he answered. She fell into his voice as he began to explain, feeling it's vibration through their touching arms. "The humans and elves who follow the Qun are the Viddathari. The Qunari who break away from the Qun are Tal-Vashoth. Deserters."

"What about Qunari who existed before the Qun?" she asked.

He nodded. "The people we came from... They're called the Kossith. But we don't use that word for the race. We came south to Thedas because the Kossith were... I don't know. We had to leave. The stories aren't clear. But I don't expect that they look much like us, whatever they are." They sat quietly for a while, Cirilla storing her new information, her mind making up little songs to help her remember his words and she subconsciously began to hum. "You do that a lot, you know," Bull said, making her stop as she looked questioningly at him. "The humming."

"Oh, yeah," she said realizing she had been doing it. "A lot of the time, like just now, I'm not even aware I'm doing it."

"I know music is kind of a bard's thing, but I'm sure it has to come with at least a little bit of natural talent. How long have you been into music?" he asked her.

"See you had a question after all," she teased, making him chuckle lightly. Then she shrugged. "I was given piano lessons as a child. It's standard practice for females of noble birth. I was also blessed with perfect pitch, which made learning that much easier. Once you know piano, you can learn any instrument. I played lute and sang for my patrons and their guests. The lute work explained away the calluses I developed while training to wield my knives and daggers. To the untrained eye, it is an easy deception."

"You must enjoy it if you fall into it without thinking," he pointed out.

She smiled bashfully. "I learned a lot of history by studying ballads. I guess it trained my mind to put a tune to new information that I want to remember. And yes, I do enjoy it."

"Me, too," he said without inflection or looking at her.

While they rode the next day, Cirilla draped her horse's reigns over the pommel of her saddle and let him follow along behind the others while she pulled out some parchment and penned a letter to send ahead of her.

_Cullen,_

_Since the rest of you couldn't decide whether I should visit the templars or the mages, I took it upon myself while in Redcliffe to stop in and see Grand Enchanter Fiona. It is a good thing I did, because we have a serious problem. When I arrived, the mages, in desperation, had made a bargain with a Tevinter Magister by the name of Gereon Alexius, leaving him in charge. The Arl has been evicted and the castle siezed by the cult that Alexius represents. They call themselves 'Venatori' and they have a serious obsession with yours truly, as well as access to very powerful and dangerous magic that can warp time._

_In light of this new information, I am returning to Haven to discuss the situation as well as something that up until recently I had only revealed to Josephine. I do not wish to put it in writing, but if you show her this letter, she can reveal it to you. It is vital information, and it is time the Inquisition knew who it's Herald truly is._

_Ciri._

She rolled up the parchment and handed it off to the raven they kept with them for just this reason. "Take this to Cullen, Fleetwing," she whispered and the bird took off with a loud caw.

When she arrived back at Haven, it was to mixed reactions to her identity. Solas glared at her as she passed him, his arms crossed in mild disappointment. It simply made her see him as not only a liar, but a hypocrite. She was not certain what his secret was, but she didn't care enough to find out. He had saved her life, but he still made her uneasy. Leliana seemed annoyed that she had not been able to make the connections on her own and that Cirilla had entrusted Josephine and not her. Vivienne was impressed, Cassandra leery, and Cullen downright flabbergasted.

Once she had settled in, the war council was called and she headed there quickly to see what sort of decisions had been made about Redcliffe. The first words out of Cullen's mouth seemed to be a repeated protest from the beginning of the argument that Cirilla had missed out on. "We don't have the manpower to take the castle! Either we find another way in, or give up this nonsense and go get the templars!" He was clearly agitated from the crease on his brow and the dark circles under his eyes.

Cassandra returned his argument. "Redcliffe is in the hands of a magister. This cannot be allowed to stand."

Josephine added more information. "The letter from Alexius asked for the Herald of Andraste by name. It's an obvious trap." So Alexius had asked for her? How had he gotten her name? _Shit!_ She had sent Beirand to spy for her. Had he been caught? Was he all right?

"Isn't that kind of him," she said perkily. "What does Alexius say about me?"

Leliana answered dryly. "He's so complimentary that we are certain he wants to kill you."

"Not this again," Josephine grumped with the first sour look on her face that Cirilla could ever remember seeing.

Cullen butted in. "Redcliffe Castle is one of the most defensible fortresses in Ferelden. It has repelled thousands of assaults." He turned his attention to Cirilla and with a growl he said, "If you go in there, you'll die. And we'll lose the only means we have of closing these rifts. I won't allow it."

"And if we don't even try to meet Alexius, we lose the mages and leave a hostile foreign power on our doorstep!" Leliana reminded him curtly.

"Even if we could assault the keep, it would be for naught," Josephine added. "An 'Orlesian' Inquisition's army marching into Ferelden would provoke a war. Our hands are tied."

"The magister..." Cassandra began in desperation.

"Has outplayed us," Cullen finished with another growl.

Cirilla shook her head and grabbed the map he had displayed in front of him. "We can't just give up. There has to be something we can do."

Cassandra agreed. "We cannot accept defeat now. There must be a solution."

Cirilla pointed to the map in her hands. "Other than the main gate, there's got to be another way into the castle. A sewer? A water course? Something?"

"There's nothing I know of that would work," Cullen disagreed.

"Wait!" Leliana piped up as if drawing on a distant memory. "There is a secret passage into the castle, an escape route for the family. It's too narrow for our troops, but we could send agents through."

"Too risky," Cullen shook his head. "Those agents will be discovered well before they reach the magister."

"That's why we need a distraction," Leliana smiled deviously at Cirilla. "Perhaps the envoy Alexius wants so badly?"

Cullen gasped. "Focus their attention on Trevelyan while we take out the Tevinters. It's risky, but it could work."

As if he had been waiting outside for a cue, the door swung open and Dorian sidled in, an Inquisition soldier on his heels. "Fortunately, you'll have help." He winked at Cirilla as he stopped by her side. He had abandoned his robes and staff, wearing only his cloth lined leathers with all of the shiny buckles.

"This man says he has information about the magister and his methods, Commander," the soldier reported breathlessly.

Cullen nodded and as the soldier slipped out, Dorian spoke. "Your spies will never get past Alexius' magic without my help. So if you're going after him, I'm coming along."

Cullen seemed to deflate. "The plan puts you in the most danger," he said to Cirilla. "We can't in good conscience, order you to do this. We can still go after the templars if you'd rather not play the bait. It's up to you."

"Make it happen. Alexius can't be allowed to remain," she said, thanking Dorian with her eyes for the assist.

"I will make the arrangements, Ciri," Leliana said sweetly.


	5. Enchanters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forging an alliance with the rebel mages proves more trying than Cirilla had hoped.

Down at the Charger's camp, Cirilla dropped down on her usual barrel beside Bull. "So what's the word?"

"We're going in as a distraction to negotiate with Alexius while Leliana's people follow Dorian through the secret entrance into the castle," she explained.

"Sounds good, boss. When do we leave?"

"Two days... for now, I need a drink. The air is a little tense around here," she sighed.

"Well, we could go to the tavern where you will likely get stared at the whole time, or..." Bull pulled out his flask and shook it in front of her face.

She snatched the flask from him and smirked. Then she opened the lid and took a sniff. Recoiling, she chuckled. "Is this safe to drink so close to the fire? If I drop it, there is a good chance it will explode."

"Then don't drop it," he said with a grin.

She took another sniff and them shrugged. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"They'll be scraping you up off the ground for a change," he teased.

When she took a sip, the drink was surprisingly smooth for the smell, and she frowned. "Oh that stuff is dangerous. I'm pretty sure that is how people end up trussed up naked to the mast of a pirate ship bound for Rivain."

He shrugged. "Sounds like a good time to me."

She took another longer swig and grinned, handing it back to him. "I never said it was a bad thing." He guffawed before taking his own drink. "If you don't mind, I'd like to know more about your work with the Ben-Hassrath."

"Ben-Hassrath is actually a general term. You've got the secret police who investigate problems inside our territory. You've got the re-educators who take people with problems and fix their minds... or make them disappear. And then you've got the spies," he explained, taking another drink and handing it back to her.

She drank and asked, "How do the re-educators work?"

He shrugged. "I only know the basics. Wasn't my area. That said... Keep a man awake long enough, ask the right questions, give the right potions, and you can get him to say anything. You don't need blood magic or demons to change someone's mind. We're a lot more fragile than we'd like to believe."

"You can alter someone's beliefs that easily?" she asked with a bit of a slur to her tongue. She continued to drink anyway, when he handed her the flask.

"One of my friends was a re-educator. He said that every memory is like the page of a book. When you examine a memory, you're turning to that page... And when you're there, the page is laid bare. Write a few notes in the margins of the page, erase a word here and there, and your whole outlook changes. Always felt a little weird reading after that conversation."

"The re-educators sound horrible," she grunted.

"Yeah, they probably do," he shrugged. "Here's the thing, though. What happens in Orlais when you commit a crime or betray a lord? They just lop you head off. At least Qunari try to fix you."

She frowned, wondering about him personally. "None of those sound exactly like you."

"Yeah, I was a special case. They sent me to Seheron because they needed someone who could fight and hunt down problems." He made a frustrated sound and continued. "That whole island was a sack of cats. Incursions from Tevinter, Tal-Vashoth, and native rebels fighting both sides... And in the middle, me, trying to wrangle the rebels and restore order."

Her vision was swimming, and she rested her chin in her hands, her elbows propped on her knees. "How'd that work out for you?"

He chuckled. "About as well as you'd expect. I hunted down a lot of rebels. Lost a lot of friends to the Vints, or the fog warriors, or the Tal-Vashoth. One day I woke up and couldn't think of a damned reason to keep doing my job. Turned myself into the reeductors."

She perked up, her eyes widening. "You'd heard what the reeducators did to their prisoners."

"Yes. I had. I wanted them to fix me like they fixed them. The Ben-Hassrath ordered me to go to Orlais, ostensibly as a Tal-Vashoth, and work undercover. That's how I ended up here." he shrugged.

"I'm glad you're here, Bull," she said with a wink.

"Me, too," he said, a small adoring grin on his face.

"If you ever need to talk more about all this, let me know," she offered, her open palm awkwardly finding his knee.

His hand landed on top of hers. "Nah. It was a long time ago. Thanks, though." He squeezed lightly and then let go. Her hand lingered briefly before he chuckled. "Let's get you to bed, boss."

She snorted and giggled. "I thought you'd never ask."

"Very funny. Let's go." He hoisted her to her feet and allowed her to take a few wobbly steps before giving up and scooping her up.

"Hey!" she protested.

"If I let you walk, we'll be here all night," he grumbled, with a teasing tone.

She took a few moments out of the next few days to speak to all of her companions about what was going on in Redcliffe, as well as the revelation of who she was. As word spread, she was certain that sooner or later, they were going to hear from both her parents, and likely Anselmo.

She found her new recruit, Blackwall, isolated past the smithy in a small hut. He was outside the door, staring up at the Breach in wonder. As she approached, he turned and offered her a small nod of greeting before glancing back at the Breach. "Maker, look at it. So much easier to ignore when it's far away." he turned back to her and looked her over. "And to actually walk out of it, to be that close..." He sighed.

"If I hadn't been saved by Inquisition soldiers, I don't know what would've happened," she agreed.

"Inquisition soldiers?" he asked with a disbelieving smirk that said she was being modest. "That's not what I've heard." After she returned the smile, he continued with a sigh. "The Breach, the Divine's death, the Wardens... It doesn't make sense. There's so much we don't know."

"Already feeling like part of the team, I see," she teased at his use of 'we'.

"Too soon?" he asked with a charming grin. "I thought we were building a rapport." The grin faded and he studied her again. "So... you already know something of me. What about you? How do you fit into all this?"

"I just want to help stop the war, try to put things back in order," she said honestly.

He nodded in approval. "A worthy goal, one I'm happy to support. For me, I'll be satisfied so long as we find the bastards that killed the Divine. They owe us some answers."

After a few minutes, she left him to his business and went to check on Bull and Sera who she was taking with her. Dorian had gone on ahead to Redcliffe to keep an eye on the situation and meet up with Leliana's people a few hours before they were set to arrive. Everything seemed in order and she stocked herself up for travel. They headed out the next morning to return to the Hinterlands and meet with Alexius so Dorian and the scouts could infiltrate the castle from the windmill that Leliana had marked.

Redcliffe castle was magnificent, indeed as impressive as Cullen had portrayed. It stood atop the cliff that the village had earned it's name from, towering over the rest of the town. Everywhere you turned, there was a statue of either Andraste, or some sort of mabari or wolf. Cirilla would never understand the Ferelden obsession with dogs. After they mounted the tall entry staircase, the doors were opened and they headed into the entry hall. It was well lit and carpeted down the middle so her boots did not make a sound as she approached the greeter. He glared at them through a distinctly Tevinter helmet, tipping his head so the metal horns pointed diagonally. "Announce us," she demanded.

From behind, a Ferelden man with blonde hair and light blue eyes stepped up beside him. "The Magister's invitation was for Mistress Trevelyan alone. The rest will wait here." His sneer was not angry, simply haughty.

Cirilla glanced back at Bull and Sera then shook her head as she returned her attention to the Ferelden. "They have to accompany me. You wouldn't deprive me of my attachés, would you?" He glared at her, and she made it clear in her body language that she was going nowhere without them.

He offered a defeated nod and turned, gesturing for them to follow. They were flanked by more armored Tevinters and Cirilla immediately re-positioned her hands so they were ready to draw her daggers as quickly as possible. They already knew this was a trap. Being surrounded did not make her feel better.

They were led into a throne room lined with tall pillars and lit with mounted iron torches. The silencing carpeting remained as they climbed several short staircases up to where Alexius sat on a dais, Fiona standing to his left, and Felix to his right. The simple Ferelden style throne was silhouetted by a firepit and flanked on either side by more dog statues. Cirilla counted the guards lined up between the pillars and prayed Leliana had sent enough men to handle them all. She had received a missive from Dorian hours ago that informed her that everything was in place. They should be working their way through the tunnels as they spoke.

She paused at the foot of the dais, training her expression to pleasantly neutral as she looked at Alexius. The Ferelden man turned to the side and bowed slightly. "My lord Magister, the agents of the Inquisition have arrived."

Alexius stood, reaching his arms wide. "My friend! It's so good to see you again." He moved closer and without flinching, he added, "and your associates, of course. I'm sure we can work out some arrangement that is equitable to all parties."

Fiona suddenly stepped forward with a sneer. "Are we mages to have no voice in deciding our fate?"

Alexius sighed, his eyes nearly rolling. "Fiona, you would not have turned your followers over to my care if you did not trust me with their lives."

Cirilla made a cutting gesture. That was unacceptable. "If the Grand Enchanter wants to be part of these talks, then I welcome her as a guest of the Inquisition."

"Thank you!" Fiona gasped.

Alexius returned to his throne and sat, the picture of calm. "The Inquisition needs mages to close the Breach, and I have them. So, what shall you offer in exchange." He believed he held all of the cards, his elbows resting on the arms of the throne and his fingers steepled before his lips."

Cirilla was finished with his smug attitude. "Don't bother. I know that you invited me here to kill me."

"If you believe that, I marvel that you chose to come anyway," he continued with an equally smug grin to accompany his attitude.

"She knows everything, Father," Felix interrupted.

Alexius' grin shattered and his head swung to his son. "Felix," he hissed. "What have you done?"

Cirilla boldly took a few steps closer, her upper body angled toward Alexius as she demanded answers. "You wanted me here, why?"

"Do you know what you are?" Alexius asked her. He stood and met her halfway. "You walk into my stronghold with you stolen mark... a gift you don't even understand... and think you're in control? You're nothing but a mistake."

"What do you know about the Divine's death?" she demanded, her hands itching to draw her daggers. She could hear the nearly silent sounds of her infiltration team working through the room while Alexius was focused on her, but kept her relief buried.

"It was the Elder One's moment, and you were unworthy even to stand in his presence," Alexius scowled.

"Father, listen to yourself! Do you know what you sound like?" Felix asked sadly.

Dorian's sing song tone rang out through the room. "He sounds exactly like the sort of villainous cliche everyone expects us to be."

"Dorian," Alexius growled in what sounded like disappointment. "I gave you a chance to be a part of this. You turned me down." Dorian stopped at her side, offering her a small reassuring wink "The Elder One has power you would not believe. He will raise the Imperium from its own ashes."

"That's who you serve?" Cirilla guessed. "The one who killed the Divine? Is he a mage?"

"Soon he will become a god," Alexius said with surety. "He will make the world bow to mages once more. We will rule from the Boeric Ocean to the Frozen Seas."

"You can't involve my people in this!" Fiona protested shrilly.

Dorian offered his hands in a pleading gesture, his rings shimmering in the firelight. "Alexius, this is exactly what you and I talked about _never_ wanting to happen! Why would you support this?"

Alexius turned from Dorian and Felix placed a hand on his shoulder. "Stop it, Father. Give up the Venatori. Let the Southern mages fight the Breach, and lets go home."

Alexius turned, dislodging Felix's hand. "No! It's the only way, Felix. He can save you!"

Felix took a step back and his lip curled. "Save me?"

"There _is_ a way. The Elder One promised. If I undo the mistake at the Temple..." he set a glower on Cirilla.

Felix sighed. "I'm going to die. You need to accept that."

Alexius ignored Felix's words. "Seize them, Venatori! The Elder One demands this woman's life!"

As he pointed at her, the already dead Venatori began to drop as her people let the corpses fall. "Your men are dead, Alexius." she declared victoriously.

"You... are a mistake! You never should have existed!" He lifted a glowing amulet, green like the rifts, and it began to float above his palm as he chanted.

Dorian sprang into action, his magic flaring as he swept his staff into his hands and sliced it upwards through the air. "No!" he shouted, his magic ripping through whatever Alexius was doing and making the man stumble backwards.

A portal opened up in their faces and Cirilla's stomach lurched as the magic took hold. A flash of green lit up her eyes and she closed them against the light. Then she was wet. As everything stopped spinning, she realized she was on her hands and knees in a five inch puddle of water. She sprung to her feet as the explosion of magic died and voices shouted in shock. "Blood of the Elder One! Where'd they come from?"

Daggers in hand, she met the charging men as best she could, parrying a swinging staff and dancing out of the water before the electricity of the other's spell reached her. She pulled a few throwing knives from her clothes and flung them at the pair. They fell dead and she took a breath to try and calm her racing heart. She was alone with Dorian in a room that looked like a dungeon cell that hadn't been used in a long time. It was warm, almost unbearably so, and she wiped sweat from her brow as Dorian glanced around at the red light all around them. It was emanating from large chunks of the same red glowing crystal that they had encountered at the Temple. Varric had made Red Lyrium seem pretty terrible when she had asked him about it, so she stepped away from the humming rocks.

Dorian took on his thoughtful stance, arms crossed and one finger on his lips. "Displacement? Interesting." he moved away with a frown, twirling his staff as if reading the air around them. "It's probably not what Alexius intended. The rift must have moved us... to what? The closest confluence of arcane energy?" he knelt.

"The last thing I remember, we were in the castle hall," she recalled, slowing her breathing and regaining her control.

He stood again, still looking around curiously. "Let's see. If we're still in the castle, it isn't... Oh! Of course! It's not simply where... it's when!" he said excitedly. "Alexius used the amulet as a focus. It moved us through time!"

"That... doesn't sound good," she said skeptically.

"It sounds _terrible_," he agreed. "Depending on when we are and what happened while we were away. Let's look around, see where the rift took us. Then we can figure out how to get back... if we can."

"There were others in the hall," she reminded him. "Could they have been drawn through the rift?"

He shook his head. "I doubt it was large enough to bring the whole room through. Alexius wouldn't risk catching himself or Felix in it. They're probably still where, and when, we left them. In some sense anyway."

Wondering if when Alexius had offered Dorian a place in the Venatori he had explained anything, she asked, "Alexius mentioned an 'Elder One' in the hall. Do you know who he was talking about?"

Dorian shrugged languidly. "Leader of the Venaori, I suspect. Some magister aspiring to godhood. It's the same old tune." He put on a voice, his words falsely giddy. " 'Let's play with magic we don't understand. It will make us incredibly powerful!' Evidently, it doesn't matter if you rip apart the fabric of time in the process."

"What was Alexius trying to do?" she wondered. Dorian had been quick to counter whatever it was.

"I believe his original plan was to remove you from time completely. If that happened, you would never have been at the Temple of Sacred Ashes or mangled the Elder One's plan. I think your surprise in the castle hall made him reckless. He tossed us into the rift before he was ready. I countered it, the magic went wild, and here we are. Make sense?"

She blinked at him. "It just seems so insane."

He nodded. "I don't even want to _think_ about what this will do to the fabric of he world. We didn't 'travel' through time so much as punch a hole through it and toss it in the privy. But don't worry. I'm here. I'll protect you." He patted her shoulder teasingly and she rolled her eyes.

"And what happens if we _can't_ get back?"

"Then we get comfortable in our new present."

She put away her daggers and they trudged through the water and out of the dungeon. As they climbed the stairs and hunted around every corner for a way out, they were surrounded by large growths of Red Lyrium. Cirilla avoided them as best she could, the strange humming taking over in her mind. To counter it, she started to sing under her breath. Dorian finally made his own observation. "Alexius really did a number on this place."

She stopped singing and glanced over at him. "I never saw this part of the castle."

He chuckled. "It was covered in the tackiest carvings of wolves and dogs that I've ever seen. This... is not an improvement."

They came to a large open room with three doors leading out. The two on either side of them were guarded by Venatori, and the third across the room was separated by a drawbridge. It was a pretty effective way to keep prisoners from leaving the dungeons. Dorian launched a bolt of spirit energy toward the guard on their left, and one of her throwing knives landed in the neck of the man on the right. They headed right first and she collected her knife. Through the door was more cells that went deeper into the new section of dungeon. She was just about to turn and try the other direction when she grabbed Dorian's arm and pulled him to a stop.

A welcome and familiar voice was lazily singing and she followed his grumbling tone to a cell. "300 bottles of beer on the wall, three hundred bottles of beer... take one down, pass it around... ach..."

He sounded bored and his voice was strangely echoed, but she would recognize it anywhere. She snatched a bundle of keys from a hook on the wall and approached the cell. His back was turned and she started to fiddle with the keys to find the right one, making him turn at the sound. "You're not dead? You're supposed to be dead. There was a burn on the ground and everything." She looked up from her task as the lock clicked open and her voice caught in her throat as she noticed the red glow of his eye and the light fog of red that hummed around his chest.

Dorian spoke for her and she dragged the cell door open. "Alexius didn't kill us. His spell sent us through time. This is our future."

Bull cocked his head and grunted. "Well, it's _my_ present. And in my _past_, I definitely saw you both die."

"Are you all right?" she asked gently, resisting the urge to touch him as he flinched away from her hand. "You don't look so good."

"Red Lyrium," he confirmed, exiting the cell and looking around for his belongings. He found his ax leaning against a wall in another cell. "If I'm lucky, it'll kill me. If not... I'm hoping I die fighting."

"You're dying?" she croaked.

"No, he's not," Dorian said quickly. "If we find Alexius, we go back, and none of this will happen, Remember?"

"Alexius isn't the one you need to worry about," Bull explained. "It's his 'Elder One'. He killed the Empress of Orlais, and used the confusion to launch an invasion of the South. The army was all demons. You ever fought a demon army? I don't recommend it."

"I'm sorry I wasn't here to help," she whimpered, hanging her head.

He moved closer to her. "Demon. Army. Shit, you were lucky you died early." He hefted his ax. "Let's move. No time like the present."

She followed him out, "That was a terrible pun," she whispered making him laugh, and they moved through the dungeons together looking for more help.

They found Sera in one of the adjoining rooms trying to recite a poem and mangling the words. She growled in frustration and said, "Remember, stupid. They can't take that." When Cirilla moved up to the cell with a smile and started to try keys, Sera freaked. "No, no, no! You can't be here! You're dead, and they don't come back!"

"I'm not dead, Sera. There's nothing to be afraid of," she said comfortingly.

Sera shook her head, her wild hair flinging back and forth over her eyes. "Like I'm going to believe some demon or whatever!"

"Oh for the love of..." Dorian sighed. "No one's dead! Alexius used time magic!"

"Talk sense or shut it!" Sera demanded. "I can't think about him!"

"Look, we're going to end this and get you out of here. Does that help?" Cirilla asked sweetly while Bull broke open a chest and found Sera's bow inside.

"A bit," Sera said warily. "Sort of. Something should. She hung her head and wrung her fingers. "The day you died? I ran out of arrows making them pay. Then it didn't matter anymore. He's got demons and gods and... I've got a bow. And I just... I want them to hurt! If you're really here, I'll frigging die to spit in their faces."

With her dying friends, they headed back toward the drawbridge to see if the left door held a way to bring it down. All they found there was Fiona, lodged in the corner of a cell, the lower half of her body crystallized into Red Lyrium. She looked at them, her eyes laced with pain. "You're... alive? How?" she asked in a breathy voice. "I saw you... disappear... into the rift."

"What's the date?" Cirilla asked, her mind struck dumb by the fact that Fiona was turning into Red Lyrium. "I need to know how much time has passed."

"Harvestmere... 9:42 Dragon," Fiona managed.

"Nine forty-_two_? Then we've missed an entire year," Dorian gasped.

"We have to get out of here, go back in time," Cirilla insisted. She needed to take all of this information back with her if she wanted to keep her friends alive.

"Please..." Fiona begged, accepting her words. "stop this from happening. Alexius... serves the Elder One. More powerful... than the Maker... No one... challenges him and lives."

Cirilla looked over at Bull and fury surfaced. She clenched her fists and snarled. "That magister's going to regret he didn't just kill me."

"Our only hope," Dorian said thoughtfully. "Is to find the amulet that Alexius used to send us here. If it still exists, I can use it to reopen the rift at the exact spot we left. Maybe."

"Good," Fiona said triumphantly.

"I said _maybe_," Dorian reiterated. "It might also turn us into paste."

"You _must_ try," Fiona pleaded. "Your spymaster, Leliana... She is here. Find her. Quickly... before the Elder One... learns you're here."

Finding nothing to lower the bridge, Cirilla suggested Dorian try magic, so they headed back to the bridge. Before they got up there, however, Dorian gasped. "If Red Lyrium is an infection... Maker, why is it coming out of the walls?"

"Are you sure you want to find out?" she asked, shuddering at the sheer amount of crystals that were jutting from everywhere.

A stroke of luck in the form of Venatori guards hit them when they arrived at the bridge. It had been lowered and a group of Tevinters swarmed the metal platform they stood on, trying to prevent them from escaping. Cirilla held back as Bull and Sera unleashed Maker knew how many months worth of frustration and idleness out on the attackers. Once they were dead Bull shot her an excited grin. "Damn, I needed a good fight."

Sera nodded her agreement. "Can we find someone else to hit? It'll make me feel better."

Across the bridge and up the stairs, they found a sort of barracks where Sera looted a few more arrows to add to the minuscule amount she had with her. Then they moved on. Above was a hallway that circled around the tower they were in. A glance inside a room or two told her they had stumbled on the torture chambers. She followed the hallway, not wanting to see what carnage laid behind every door. Near the end of the hallway, she heard shouting while they approached. "How did Trevelyan know of the sacrifice at the temple? Answer!"

"Never!" That was Leliana's voice, but gruffer and less melodic than Cirilla remembered. A slap followed her words and she cried out in pain.

"There's no use to this defiance, Little Bird. There's no one left for you to protect."

"You're wasting your breath," Leliana grunted. Cirilla was jogging, trying to figure out which door they were behind, the voices echoing strangely off the stone walls. Another slap and cry of pain from Leliana pushed her harder.

"Talk! The Elder One demands answers!" the torturer shouted.

Leliana laughed in anger, the sound chilling. "He'll get used to disappointment." Cirilla finally found the door and tried the lock, the noise drowned out by Leliana's scream as the door swung open.

The torturer picked up a knife from a table and held Leliana's head up while pressing the knife to her throat. "You will break!"

"I will _die_ first," she said defiantly as he released her head. She looked down at him and then her eyes landed on Cirilla. The torturer spun at her expression and Leliana took advantage of his back. "Or you will!" She lifted her legs, from where she dangled from the ceiling by her wrists, wrapping her thighs around the man's neck and squeezing until Cirilla heard the crunch of his spine as she snapped his neck. Leliana sagged as the man fell and she gasped. "You're alive..."

Cirilla ran to the man and searched for the keys to let Leliana down. The spymaster was a shell of herself, her once beautiful face sunken and hollow, her cheeks discolored from malnutrition. Her eyes were glazed over and pale. She was surprisingly strong, landing on her own two feet when Cirilla released her wrists. "We never died in the first place. Alexius miscalculated."

Leliana accepted her words and moved toward a chest across the room. "Then it will be his last mistake. Do you have weapons?" She plucked a bow from the chest. Cirilla confirmed, revealing her daggers. "Good. The magister's probably in his chambers."

"You... aren't curious how we got here?" Dorian wondered.

"No," Leliana said curtly.

Dorian launched into an explanation anyhow. "Alexius sent us into the future. This. His victory, his Elder One... it was never meant to be."

"I need to find Alexius and reverse the spell," Cirilla added.

"If we can get back to our present time, we can prevent this future from ever happening," Dorian smirked confidently.

Leliana's response was uncharacteristic. "And mages always wonder why people fear them... No one should have this power."

Dorian spoke to justify mages. "It's dangerous and unpredictable. Before the Breach, nothing we did..."

"Enough!" Leliana interrupted. "This is all pretend to you, some future you hope will never exist. I suffered. The whole world suffered. It was real."

She started from the room, rushing them forward. It was awkwardly silent while they made their way out of the dungeons. Finally Dorian asked, "What happened while we were away?"

"Stop talking," Leliana snapped.

"I'm just asking for information," Dorian said innocently.

"No. You're talking to fill silence. Nothing happened that you want to hear."

Her words suppressed any more talking until they passed through the underground harbor and out into the outer courtyard. Cirilla's palm immediately began to hum, her fingers going numb. She looked up into the sky and everything all around was tinged with green. The walls of the castle were broken and because of the Breach, giant boulders and massive chunks of statues hovered over their heads. Cirilla gasped in horror. "The Breach. It's..."

"Everywhere," Dorian finished for her when her voice gave way.

"Don't look up. Don't look up. Don't look... Shit, I looked," Sera chanted.

Just up the stairs into the upper courtyard, there was a rift. Almost immediately after closing that one, around the corner was another one. Cirilla had never seen them spring up so close together before. This future was terrifying. It was as if the Fade and the waking world were one and the same. She needed to fix this. They made their way into the castle proper. It was quiet and her palm blessedly stopped it's tingling with the walls between it and the green sky outside. They made their way to the main hall where the throne room was but a door away. In the main hall was another rift and some Venatori mages that were working with the demons. Cirilla barely needed to do a thing as Bull, Sera and Leliana took out the last year of their lives on the Tevinters. She approached the large doors once the rift was closed and cocked her head. These doors were different from the large oak ones with dogs carved into them that had stood here before.

"Maker's breath!" Dorian gasped as he ran a hand over the door that had no handle or pickable lock. "Where did Alexius find this? How did he even move it here?"

"Can we open it?" she asked.

"Perhaps," Dorian mused. "But it looks quite strong. How desperate and paranoid must he be? His servants must have a way through. He has to eat. Let's look around."

Cirilla immediately headed for the crew they had just killed, fishing around in the mages' robes for a key. What she found instead was a small shard of what looked like inert red lyrium that fit in the palm of her hand. "Dorian," she called out.

He came up beside her to look. "What in Andraste's name is that? Hold on to it. I want to look at it later."

They hunted through the castle chapel, the servants quarters/ kitchens, and the family's quarters. All they found on the Tevinters was more of those crystals. Cirilla had five of them before Dorian mused thoughtfully. "Let's head back to the main hall. I think I know how we'll open that door."

The castle looked terrible, like a hurricane and a tornado had simultaneously blew through and then meteors of red lyrium had rained down and crashed into the walls. Cirilla tried not to look, humming to block out the nasty song of the crystals. Bull sidled up beside her. "After you died, I think that was what I missed the most. It's good to hear it again before I go."

"Was I humming again?" she asked, the habit mostly subconscious.

"You were," he confirmed. She wanted to reach out, comfort him, but he read her intent and stepped away. "I don't think that's a good idea, boss."

She pressed her lips together, nodding and met his single blue eye that glowed now with a red hue. "I'm sorry, Bull."

"I'm not," he assured her with a shrug. "It was a good life."

When they reached the impossible door, Dorian beckoned to her for the stones and plucked them with two fingers, gingerly from her palms. He fit them into five small grooves in the door and they began to glow with magic. When he fit the last one, the lock on the door clicked open and the door opened in the middle, swinging inwards with a whisper of magic.

They entered the room and Leliana moved to gain a flanking position behind Alexius' back as he stared into the fire behind his throne. Cirilla noted the hunched figure in familiar yellow robes and knew why Leliana had been reluctant to indulge Dorian when he had asked after Felix. The boy's hair was patchy, mostly bald, and he seemed to have lost all penchant for thought. He squatted by the fire like a gargoyle, swaying back and forth on the balls of his feet. Cirilla had seen more than enough. "It's over, Alexius."

The magister's shoulder hunched as he sighed. "So it is. I knew you would appear again. Not that it would be now, but I knew I hadn't destroyed you. My final failure."

Dorian added his voice, soft and regretful as he looked on his mentor. "Was it worth it? Everything you did to the world? To yourself?"

"It doesn't matter now. All we can do is wait for the end," Alexius nearly whispered.

"It _does_ matter. I will undo this," Cirilla insisted angrily.

"How many times have I tried? The past cannot be undone. All that I fought for, all that I betrayed, and what have I wrought? Ruin and death. There is nothing else. The Elder One comes... for me, for you, for us all." Suddenly, Leliana jumped from the shadows and grabbed Felix, making him cry out in alarm as she jammed a dagger against his neck. "Felix!" Alexius cried, holding an arm out toward the boy.

"That's _Felix_?" Dorian shouted. "Maker's breath, Alexius, what have you done?"

"He would have died, Dorian! I _saved_ him!" He glanced briefly toward them, his eyes pleading before he looked back to Leliana. "Please, don't hurt my son. I'll do anything you ask."

"Hand over the amulet, and we let him go," Cirilla said swiftly, hoping that Leliana would hear the desperation in her voice and take the deal. This was not the Leliana she knew.

"Let him go, and I swear you'll get what you want," Alexius agreed with his own desperation.

"I want the world back," Leliana said grimly and drew the dagger across Felix's throat.

Cirilla's heart sunk as Alexius reacted. "No!" he shouted and grabbed a staff that was leaning against the wall where he was standing. He slammed the butt of it onto the ground and a wave of magic knocked Leliana from the dais. Her one action now made them waste time in a battle that didn't need to happen.

Cirilla drew her daggers as Alexius began to throw spells at them. She and Bull continuously darted back and forth, trying to keep up with Alexius as he seemingly teleported from one side of the room to the other. Giving up on catching him, she started to throw some of her hidden knives. A few of them landed and others bounced off his scale mail armor. Sera and Leliana were having similar problems with their arrows. He was well protected. Twice, he channeled his magic and ripped open rifts in the hall to garner demon support and swallow lyrium potions to regain some mana. After closing the second rift, Cirilla drew the shadows around herself and swiftly darted from pillar to pillar while Dorian distracted Alexius. When she was behind him, she slashed at his ankles, dropping him to the ground and then she buried her daggers hilt deep in his chest before pulling them out and crossing her arms to slash across his throat from both sides nearly severing his head.

Dorian approached and knelt beside him with a sigh to fish the amulet free of his robes. "He wanted to die, didn't he? All those lies he told himself, the justifications... He lost Felix long ago and didn't even notice. Oh, Alexius..."

While Dorian studied the amulet, she said gently, "This Alexius was too far gone. But the Alexius in our time might still be reasoned with."

"I suppose that's true," Dorian shrugged. "This is the same amulet he used before. I think it's the same one we made in Minrathous. That's a relief. Give me an hour to work out the spell he used, and I should be able to reopen the rift."

"An hour?" Leliana interrupted angrily. "That's impossible! You must go now!" Punctuating her words was a great rumbling. Rubble from the castle fell around them, dust tickling at Cirilla's nose. The noise of the shifting rock was accompanied by a loud, shrill shriek from outside. "The Elder One."

"Frig. Frig! That's how they won. How _it_ won!" Sera said in a panic.

Sera and Bull exchanged a glance and Cirilla saw their decision. Her throat knotted up as Bull looked at her and hefted his ax. "We'll head out front. Keep them off your tail."

"We'll make this count," she croaked, ushering Dorian up the dais to where they had been standing when Alexius cast the spell.

Leliana spoke as Bull and Sera left. "The only way we live is if this day never comes. Cast your spell. You have as much time as I have arrows." She stayed in the hall as Dorian worked.

She drew an arrow and aimed it for the doors that Sera and Bull had closed behind themselves. Within minutes, a great ruckus sounded outside the doors and Leliana began to recite a portion of the Chant of Light. Dorian already had the amulet hovering in the air between them as Cirilla watched. _Though darkness closes, I am shielded by flame._ The doors burst open and one of the tall lanky demons of terror dragged Bull's mangled corpse through the door and tossed it to the ground. Leliana was already shooting. Arrow after arrow flying with precision. _Andraste guide me. Maker, take me to your side. _An arrow came from the other side, piercing Leliana's shoulder and staggering her. Dorian grabbed Cirilla's arm as she felt herself twitch forward to help. "You move, and we all die!" he shouted. He dragged her back into place and went back to his spell which had produced a swirling portal much like she remembered Alexius' looking. She watched Leliana fighting, tooth and nail while she remained glued to the spot. A Tevinter grabbed Leliana in a choke hold and held her for the demon who had dragged in Bull. Cirilla watched in horror as it slashed her open, her guts spilling out onto the floor just as the portal sucked them through.

Much like before, the world spun, and she staggered, her stomach lurching. "You'll have to do better than that," Dorian snarked as the magic cleared and Alexius stood but a few feet away. Cirilla charged toward him and the man dropped to his knees in defeat.

"Put aside all claim to Redcliffe, an we let you live," Cirilla demanded, her eyes flicking around to be certain her friends were still with them. They looked confused, but unharmed.

"You won," Alexius admitted. "There is no point extending this charade." He looked up at his son. "Felix..."

Felix knelt by his defeated father and said gently. "It's going to be all right, Father."

"You'll die," Alexius nearly sobbed.

"Everyone dies," Felix reminded him.

Alexius hung his head as some Inquisition soldiers approached and shackled his hands behind him. "Well, I'm glad that's over with!" Dorian quipped. A loud clattering sounded through the hall after the doors burst open. A dozen royal guards marched into the room and lined the carpet in a synchronized march, stopping to stand stiffly. "Or not."

They were followed by a handsome blonde man dressed in a simple, yet formal, hide and fur set of pants and top. Cirilla recognized him immediately, stepping aside to bow formally as he stopped in front of Fiona. "Grand Enchanter. Imagine how surprised I was to learn you'd given Redcliffe Castle away to a Tevinter Magister."

"King Alistair!" Fiona gasped.

The King ignored her reaction and continued. "Especially since I'm fairly sure Redcliffe belongs to Arl Teagan."

"Your majesty," Fiona stuttered. "We never intended..."

"I know what you intended," he interrupted. "I wanted to help you, but you've made it impossible." He seemed genuinely disappointed as he shook his head, pausing briefly as if his decision pained him. "You and your followers are no longer welcome in Ferelden."

"But... we have hundreds who need protection! Where will we go?" Fiona begged.

Cirilla stepped forward, her head still bowed with respect. "I should point out that we did come here for mages to close the Breach."

"And what are the terms of this arrangement?" Fiona asked her with narrowed eyes.

"Hopefully better than what Alexius gave you. The Inquisition _is_ better than that, yes?" Dorian prompted.

"After this? Stick them up a tower," Sera grumbled.

Cirilla wished she could trust the mages, but after what she had seen, there was no way. "It seems we have little choice but to accept whatever you offer," Fiona said meekly.

"You will surrender yourselves as prisoners and conscripts of the Inquisition," Cirilla said for all to hear.

Dorian chose a scowl as his response, and Fiona gasped. "We shouldn't have accepted the magister's 'help', I know, but..."

Cirilla cut her off. "The sky has been torn open. We are all in immediate danger. There is no room for failure now. We cannot close the Breach without you, but we would be mad to trust you."

King Alistair took a single step toward Cirilla and addressed her. "Then I wish the Inquisition all the best. I'd like Redcliffe back to normal by sundown tomorrow."

"Then we have no choice but to surrender to the Inquisition," Fiona sighed. "I'll go prepare for the journey to Haven. The Breach will be closed. We must do what we can to restore peace to a world that sorely needs it."

Cirilla sat at camp that evening on a short log, her knees up and her forehead resting on them, her arms hugging her shins. She had told a brief rendition of her and Dorian's trip through time, and now she needed to come to terms with everything she had seen, as well as having seen her friends die for her. It was something she hoped she never had to witness again. Dorian seemed to be sticking with them, but he had yet to speak to her, still sore about how she had conscripted the mages. The log shifted beneath her and she glanced up to see that Bull had sat down beside her. He offered her his flask and she took it, forcing her eyes to remain on him as she sipped, memorizing every bit of him and reveling that he was alive and well. "So... that Tevinter guy sent you into the future?" He grunted and shuddered.

She decided to tease him to take off the edge of her own anxiety. "If you're worried about magic, I can protect you."

He scoffed. "My blade pretty much protects me."

"Perhaps I can do things your blade can't," she said suggestively.

"I don't know," he shrugged and from his expression she could tell he had picked up on her tone. "It has blood grooves. Well, technically it's the fuller, but, 'blood grooves' sounds so much more violent. Anyway, I hope our new friends have what it takes to close the Breach. Damn thing gives me a headache just looking at it."

She stopped him from leaving as he took his flask back with a hand on his forearm. She really needed someone to talk to, even if it was just him talking. "Can you tell me more about Seheron?"

His brow rose. "It was a damn ugly place. Only getting uglier when I left. Between the fog warriors, the Tal-Vashoth, my people, and the Vints, you were lucky to go a day without blood. What do you want to know?"

She shrugged. "What were the fog warriors like?"

He settled in for a long conversation and she slipped off the log to lean her back against it as she listened, staring up at the stars twinkling from between the trees. "They were the worst of the rebels. They trained for stealth attacks. They made this fog... I never saw any mages, so I figure it was alchemy, not magic. They were almost invisible in it. I'd be on patrol in the market square, the fog would roll in, and before I knew it, half my squad dead without a sound."

"It almost sounds like you admire them," she pointed out.

"They didn't use poison, they didn't hurt civilians, and they were damn good fighters. You have to respect that," he said with a shrug. Then he chuckled. "Plus, they hit the Vints as hard as they hit us. Hearing some terrified magister scream, 'My slaves! Where are my slaves?' in the fog always put a smile on my face."

"Tell me about the Tal-Vashoth," she prompted when he finished laughing.

He sighed. "When Qunari can't handle the fighting in Seheron or lose faith in the Qun, they go rogue. They flee into the wilderness and turn into bandits, attacking everyone. They're vicious, savage. You look at them, and you can see why my people _needed_ the Qun to stay civilized."

"Isn't that what you did, though?" she asked absently, wondering about his time with the reeducators.

"Hey!" he corrected, making her jump at his tone. "When I burned out, I didn't go rogue. I reported in and went where the Ben-Hassrath sent me. I'm doing my job, serving the Qun out here. I'm not some bandit. I am _nothing_ like them."

She nodded in acceptance. She hadn't meant anything like that. When he didn't get up and leave, she sheepishly continued. "Tell me about the Tevinter people you fought."

"The Vints sent forces to Seheron every autumn. Guess they didn't like the summer heat. We had some good fights on the Beaches. Standing in knee-high water foaming red with blood, ships on fire around us... The cities were worse. Free bit of advice? Don't let the Inquisition forces get suckered into urban combat."

"Why do you hate Tevinter forces so much?" she wondered, reading his tone and expression. "What makes them so bad?"

"It's not their armies. It's their spies. They bloodied Seheron year-round, killing loyalists, supporting rebels. Alam had no city administrator. Nobody would accept the position. The last four who held it died inside a year. Trying to conquer a country is one thing. Making it so that nobody can live there? That just screws everyone."

His explanation led her to another curiosity. "What are things like for the natives of Seheron?"

He flinched. "I remember one guy. He made these things, fish wrapped in thin bread? Nice guy, talked to him every morning. So one time, I'm asking about his bad back, and I see he's nervous, trying to tell me something with his eyes. Next thing I know, his assistants draw knives and come at my team. The rebels had forced him to poison my food."

"And then?" she prompted with a short yawn that she tried to stifle. His voice was having a very calming effect on her after the swig from his strong flask.

"I'd seen how nervous he was, so I hadn't eaten anything. Couple of my guys weren't so lucky. We killed the rebels. I lost two men to the poison, another to knife wounds. My friend who made the fish wraps died with a knife in his throat. Close quarters fight. He was caught in the middle. That is what things are like for the natives of Seheron."

"I can see why you wanted out," she said with another yawn.

"Get some sleep, boss. You've had a long day," he suggested with a lopsided grin before patting her shoulder and getting up to leave her alone.

On their return to Haven, Cirilla headed directly to the war room to give a formal report of what had happened. She never made it past the Chantry doors when she heard Leliana's voice raised in discontentment. "They have suffered enough! Why continue to mistreat them?"

Cullen answered as she strode up, "It is not mistreating them to take reasonable precautions!"

"Whatever you call it," Josephine sighed, "the situation with the mages is unstable and likely to deteriorate, just as the Circles did."

Leliana turned on Cirilla. "What did you think you were doing, taking the mages prisoner?"

"These mages seized Redcliffe and threw out it's people. They must face Justice," she reminded all of those present.

Josie took the bright side but then slowly spiraled. "While this certainly buys us public approval, I worry it won't last. The mages will rebel again."

"Enough arguing!" Cassandra growled. "None of us were there. We cannot afford to second guess our people. The sole purpose of the Herald's mission was to gain the mages' aid, and that was accomplished."

"The voice of pragmatism speaks!" Dorian sidled up as well, a mocking grin on his face. "And here I was just starting to enjoy the circular arguments." He leaned casually against one of the pillars to regard them all.

"Closing the Breach is all that matters," Cassandra grunted.

Cirilla butted in as well. "Closing the Breach will require a lot of magic, and that means lyrium. I have contacts who can help."

" 'Contacts' meaning smugglers? Send them word. We need every advantage," Leliana agreed.

"We have legitimate lyrium supply lines already," Cullen objected.

"And they don't need to hear of this," Leliana said with a bubbly smile.

"Keep it under the table, and I'll do what I can to quiet rumors," Josephine said, adding it to her agenda.

"We should look into the things you saw in this 'dark future'. The assassination of Empress Celene? A demon army?"

"Sounds like something a Tevinter cult might do. Orlais falls, the Imperium rises. Chaos for everyone," Dorian piped up.

"One battle at a time," Cullen protested. "It's going to take time to organize our troops and the mage recruits. Let's take this to the war room. Join us," he said to Cirilla with an inviting grin. "None of this means anything without your mark, after all."

She pouted. "And I'd hoped to sit out the assault on the Breach. Take a nap, maybe go for a walk..."

Cullen chuckled. "What is it they say? 'No rest for the wicked'?"

"Meet us there when you're ready," Josephine sighed.

"I'll skip the war council," Dorian sniffed. "But I would like to see this Breach up close, if you don't mind."

"Then you're... staying?" Cirilla asked in shock. He had barely spoken to her on the way back from Redcliffe.

"Oh, didn't I mention? The south is so charming and rustic. I adore it to little pieces," he snarked.

"I must admit, I'm surprised," she pointed out.

"We both saw what could happen, what this 'Elder One' and his cult are trying to do. Not everything from Tevinter is terrible. Some of us have fought for eons against this sort of madness. It's my duty to stand with you. That future will _not_ come to pass," he declared.

"There's no one I'd rather be stranded in time with, future of present," she joked, glad he was staying. He was the only mage around here that she truly trusted. It was strange to say that of a Tevinter.

"Excellent choice! But let's not get 'stranded' again anytime soon, yes?"

"I'll begin preparations to march on the summit. Maker willing, the mages will be enough to grant us victory," Cullen said with a smile.

After the war council, Cirilla made her way through Haven, hunting down Dorian. They needed to chat about what page they were both on. He had been openly friendly since they'd met, right up until her decision to corral the mages. When she found him, he was near the apothecary's door, not quite looking like he wanted to enter the usually smelly hut, but interested in what was going on inside. She approached him with a smile, her training to ingratiate herself with any and all newcomers taking hold. When he spotted her, his eyes did a sweep of her person and he pursed his lips, his arms crossed defensively. "Put a leash on the rebel mages, I see." As he approached her stiffly, he continued. "Interesting how they seem to like the idea. As if it's a relief to be penned in again."

She crossed her own arms, folding around herself and using his taller frame to make herself look bashful. "It can't have been easy... Life on the run. Hunted all the time."

"Better to be in the fold than out in the wilds? For a sheep, that is," he sniffed, dropping his arms to his sides, slightly less hostile. "It all depends on what you do with these mages later. No guarantee you'll throw them back into Circles again, I suppose." He was right. That had not been her intention at all. They needed to be kept safe from the templars and from themselves. Right now, with the Inquisition was the best way to do that. They would figure out the rest when the Breach was sealed and things calmed down. "I mean, unless you're as thick as you seem. Which would be sad, really."

She straightened her posture, realizing he was partially on to her game. "Have you gone to see Alexius yet? He's in the cells."

"Not yet, no," he said with a bitter sigh. "I saw him before they locked him up. He looked... despondent, broken. Not the man I remember, nor the one I want to. I suppose the Inquisition will judge him eventually. I wonder if there's any chance they'll show him mercy." Dorian moved away from the small corner of shade they had stopped in, offering for her to follow. She jumped on the chance, hoping to make things between them less hostile. "He hardly deserves it, but for Felix's sake, I can't help hoping there's _something_ left of the man I once knew." They walked quietly for a moment, Dorian seemingly acquainting himself with Haven. Then he grinned at her. "Did you know we're actually related, Herald?"

"Related?" she asked with a bit of shock.

He chuckled. "Oh, not first cousins or anything like that. Can you imagine? You're a Trevelyan, however, and somewhere in the dank nethers of my family tree, there was also a Trevelyan," he explained. "Perhaps he was even the one who ventured to Ostwick to establish the branch? We are talking long ago, of course."

She snorted and said wryly, "I'd rather we weren't related. That might make flirting awkward."

Without skipping a beat, Dorian let out a swift and loud HA, chasing off a few crows that were pecking at the dirt nearby. "Depends on which branch of the family you come from. Regardless, I think we're still good to go... by at least three ages."

Since he was being amiable, she decided to find out a little bit about him. "It occurs to me that I barely know anything about you," she pointed out.

"Beyond my being a _mage from Tevinter_, you mean?" he asked, wiggling his fingers at her teasingly.

"Beyond that, yes," she said with a grin.

"And beyond my being so charming and well-dressed? Which is obvious to anyone," he said, preening.

"I'm well aware of your finer qualities, believe me," she said in a husky voice and he chuckled.

"Of course you are. You're a discerning and intelligent woman, after all." Talking with his hands, the sun glinting off his jewelry. "Now... what was I talking about? Ah, yes. Me. I am the scion of House Pavus, a product of generations of careful breeding, and the repository of its hopes and dreams. Naturally, I despised it all... the lies, the scheming, the illusions of supremacy. That's Tevinter in a nutshell, isn't it? Needless to say, my family was not happy with my choices."

"Why would your family be upset with your choices?" This was starting to sound familiar.

"Because I rejected their idyllic plan," he said with whimsy. "If they had their way, by now I'd be married to some unlucky girl from a powerful family. We'd live in luxurious despair, despising each other as I waited to take my father's place in the Magisterium. I declined the honor, and thus it's best I'm far from home. Less of an embarrassment that way, you see." She knew exactly what he had gone through. She hadn't conformed to her family's view of her future any more than he did.

"I'm getting the impression that you don't care much for your homeland," she pointed out.

"On the contrary," he took her arm in his, painting her a picture as he spoke. "I care for my homeland a great deal. There's so much potential. Sadly, we squander it. We refuse to acknowledge how far we've fallen because pretending is easier. We pretend the Qunari can be beaten. We pretend that we're superior to everyone, even our own people. Not everyone feels that way. I don't. Sadly, we're the minority."

"It just seems... so much of what you say about the Imperium is entirely negative," she urged.

"It might sound that way," he agreed. "For all our faults, my people have many virtues. We are laden with history and culture... Tevinter is where Thedas truly began, remember. We treasure our past and preserve it. You can walk down a side street and find nothing built during the modern ages. And, despite appearances, we care. Deeply. About everything. We have no reserve, not in war and not in love. If I truly believed my homeland was beyond all hope, I wouldn't miss it so much."

"Why remain with the Inquisition? Why not go back to Tevinter?" she wondered, not that she wasn't glad to have him. He just seemed homesick.

He chuckled and patted her hand where it rested in the crook of his arm. "I'm not exactly welcome back home. Not that it matters, I'm quite accustomed to being a pariah. It adds to my charm. I can do more for Tevinter here. If the Venatori succeed, it'll set my homeland back a thousand years. I'm sure some Magisters would disagree... but that's why we kill them."

She smiled at his casual joke and then had another wonder. "What did you mean by 'generations of careful breeding'?"

"The great families of Tevinter don't have children. They refine traits, weed out the undesirable, and promote the rest. My mother was chosen for my father because magic runs strongly in her blood. Never mind that they loathed each other. They wanted a son who could become Archon, to make House Pavus the envy of the Imperium. They got me... a cautionary tale that you should be careful what you wish for."

She shrugged. "Well, I think you're great."

"How fortunate. Me too!" he said with a chuckle. "I'm sure you have other things to attend to, Herald. I'll let you go."

She unraveled her arm from his and smiled. "I enjoyed the chat. We should do it again some time."

He nodded in agreement and strolled off to continue his inspection of Haven. She noticed she was near Varric's usual haunt so she sought him out, wanting to hear his opinion of her decision. When he saw her approaching, he smiled widely. "The mage rebellion joins the Inquisition. I've got to admit, that's a twist I didn't see coming." She sat down on the short stool beside his and he continued. "One thing you saw in the future worries me. I mean, it was all bad. But red lyrium in Ferelden? Infecting people and growing out of them? That's _bad_." He frowned, his broken nose wrinkling. "Finding more of it really punches a hole in my 'red lyrium and the Temple was a coincidence' theory."

She nodded her agreement. Varric had confided in her that he had a piece of the stuff and had people studying it back in Kirkwall, so she prodded for information. "How long does it take for red lyrium to grow? How fast can it spread?"

He sighed and shook his head in frustration. "It took years to infect people in Kirkwall, but no one was actually ingesting the stuff. This 'Elder One' managed to take the worst thing I can think of and make it worse. That's an accomplishment."

"We can't leave a single piece of that lyrium out in the wild," she grunted.

"I'm with you on that," he agreed. "I've got people trying to find where the red stuff came from. I think maybe we should make that a priority." Cirilla made a mental note to get that information to Leliana. Then Varric changed his tone. "But that's enough doom and gloom. You just won a big victory for the Inquisition! What're you going to do to celebrate?"

She snorted. "I was planning to put my feet up. Maybe grab a nap. You?"

He chuckled. "Whatever I do, it'll be as far from Cassandra as I can get. Things should be calm around here for at least the next hour. Take a moment to enjoy it. If the world's about to end, I'm sure the Seeker will let us know."

She got up and left Varric to his relaxation. She decided that it had been too long since she had taken the time to go around the village and talk with the people. She was the Herald. That warranted a certain amount of involvement in helping out. She took the afternoon to pitch in around the camp and at the stables. Then she sat down in her own cabin to do a bit of her own alchemy and stock up on her poisons.


	6. The Dawn Will Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cirilla closes the Breach and a new enemy rises. Then she is faced with a new responsibility.

Cirilla spent the next few days awaiting the arrival of the mages. She found out from reports that Beirand was still alive, but he had been locked up by Alexius and his men when they discovered him spying. That was how they had discovered her identity. They'd tortured it out of the poor boy. At least he had his life.

He arrived along with the others, quietly taking his place when quarters were assigned. Some of the others weren't so pleased. Cirilla heard from several of her people that complaints were being loudly filed. She headed down to the makeshift barracks where most of the noise was coming from to see if there was anything she could do. She walked up on Cassandra arguing (calmly for her) with an elven mage in senior enchanter's robes from somewhere in the Free Marches.

"And what are we supposed to do, exactly?" he demanded.

She glared at him with her eyes while her mouth smiled as politely as was possible for her, her hands clasped behind her back. It was almost mocking. "What you always do. Complain."

"We've already spoken with Commander Cullen. No one listens. We've been split up, regardless of our colleges, forced into quarters so small that..."

Cassandra interrupted. "This is not the Circle. You have been conscripted into the Inquisition, like any soldier."

"How are we supposed to..." he tried to continue but she cut him off with a sneer.

"Deal. With. It..." He stormed off angrily and Cassandra shook her head, waving a dismissive hand as Cirilla approached. "It never ends, evidently."

"Is there an issue with the mages? Can I help?" Cirilla offered.

Cassandra huffed dismissively. "The mages are too accustomed to running or being kept prisoner. It's not easy for them. It is your doing, after all. You're the one who conscripted them."

"I had to think on my feet, and I did what I could," Cirilla answered with a frown. She had thought Cassandra had agreed with her decision. It had seemed like it before.

Cassandra's eyes widened as she realized how her words had sounded. "Oh. I do sound like I'm blaming you, don't I? I don't disapprove. In fact, you did well. You made a decision when it needed to be made. And here we are. I wish I could say it was my doing."

Cirilla smiled slightly, "You're flattering me."

"I'm not!" Cassandra protested, her eyes widening even further. "This always happens. Nobody ever takes my meaning..."

Cirilla burst out laughing. "You should see your face!"

Cassandra frowned as she realized Cirilla was teasing her. "I'm thinking less flattering things now." When Cirilla continued to chuckle at Cassandra's expression, the warrior sighed heavily before walking away with her fists clenched. "Let's hope the Breach has your sense of humor."

Still smiling, Cirilla passed by Cullen as she made to leave the barracks. He drew her attention with a hand on her shoulder. He took the stance that told her he had a report to deliver her. "The mages are ready to approach the Breach. I pray this will be enough to close it."

"Fiona has sent her best mages," Cirilla assured him. "This has to work."

He crossed his arms. "Of course. In the meantime, I will oversee out forces should anything go wrong."

"What do you mean?" she asked curiously.

He lifted a single brow as if she were being dense. "All we have are theories. I believe our plan can work, but no one knows for certain what will happen. We need to take precautions."

"Whatever you think is best, Commander. I trust you, Cullen," she said with a smile and then continued on her original course.

Inside the Chantry, Cirilla had meant to head for the private chapel and say a small prayer for strength for the assault on the Breach. The thing had tried to kill her before, and she was hoping that messing with the magic holding the mark in check wouldn't make it start to spread again. Her intention was interrupted when she noticed Josephine talking with a dwarven woman outside her office.When the woman took her leave, Cirilla approached Josephine. "Who was she, Ambassador?"

"A merchant," Josephine informed her. "On top of your contacts, I thought we should reach out to the dwarves to secure lyrium for the Inquisition's mages. According to Lady Korpin," she gestured toward the woman exiting the Chantry. "it's raised the ire of the Chantry."

"How?" Cirilla asked.

"Access to lyrium makes us rather more formidable than they anticipated. We are becoming a challenge." She sighed. "Sadly, the remaining grand clerics appear to be consolidating the Chantry's power instead of comforting the masses."

Cirilla sighed. "The Chantry should be a place of hope, not another group scrambling for answers."

Josie turned to head into her office, holding the door for Cirilla to follow. "That must be it's strength again. The Chant did much to bridge nations. Little but the Chantry ties Orlais, Nevarra, Ferelden, Antiva, and even Rivain to a common cause."

Cirilla took a seat on a bench near the door and casually leaned her elbows on her knees. "Has the Chantry truly promoted such peace?"

"Andraste's chant is familiar across kingdoms, a source of many shared customs," Josephine said with a nod. "_That_ is the crucial point. Common ground is the start of all negotiations."

Cirilla shrugged and sat back. "I suppose a shared faith can be useful when talking with strangers."

"Precisely!" Josie said excitedly. "And these similar interests are merely where we begin. We must learn to think beyond our own wants to secure peace in Thedas."

Josie was starting to sound like her. "How did someone so lovely _and_ selfless go into Orlesian politics, Lady Montilyet?"

Josie's dark skin flushed and she sputtered. "Well. That is... really, you give me too much credit," she chuckled sweetly. Cirilla realized that she had just used her charm exactly like Bull had described and Josephine had fallen directly into it. Recovering, Josephine cleared her throat. "While you're here, I do have a question." Cirilla gestured to the open floor and allowed Josephine to ask. "The remaining grand clerics have sent a missive inquiring about events at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. They demand to know whether the Inquisition officially claims that Andraste saved you from the Breach. If... it were up to you, how would you reply?"

Cirilla had felt like her mark had been a boon since the thought had been mentioned. She couldn't remember anything and maybe that was why. Andraste had touched her and the experience had wiped her memories. Who else could the woman behind her have been if not Andraste? That was the only vivid memory she had. She stood and set a hand on Josephine's shoulder. "I'd tell the Chantry that Andraste herself shielded me from harm."

"I'd truly like to hear the debates that would raise in the halls of Val Royeaux." Josephine gave her a half bow and smiled. "Thank you for your thoughts. A good day to you."

They had marched up to the remains of the Temple around mid-morning the next day. Apparently while she had been out recruiting, the Inquisition had been busy with cleaning up the deposits of red lyrium that had been all over the Temple. Now all that remained were the magically charged stalagmites that burst up in a ring around the rubble.

The rift she had used to settle the Breach the last time remained, the black and green crystals shifting and undulating from it's center. The tendrils of magic swirled upwards to the vortex of clouds above. Her hand reacted, magic sparking from the mark to flicker around her fingers. The sensation was numbing as she awaited the mages and soldiers to take their places. Cassandra and Solas stood at her side. Once everyone was in place, Cassandra nodded to her.

Cirilla looked down at the dancing magic in her palm once more and closed her fist around it with determination. She began to approach the crackling rift and Cassandra called out. "Mages!"

Solas finished her thought. "Focus past the Herald. Let her will draw from you!"

The closer she stepped to the rift, the heavier her footfalls became and the harder it was to push against the magic. She gritted her teeth and gathered her strength. Andraste had chosen her for this. She could do it. A surge of energy burst from the dozens of mages all around and Cirilla felt the mark sparking. She lifted her arm, opening her palm to the magic and thrust it upwards toward the rift. Her entire arm went numb as the magics connected. The crystals of the rift cracked open, giving her a brief glimpse of the Fade before it closed around itself, the swirling magics balling up in a knot. She wished she could describe what happened next, but she was blinded as a flash of white exploded in her vision and the magic nearly yanked her off her feet. Before she could recover, the building energy that she had poured into the rift snapped the magic free of her and cracked like a dam, the excess bleeding off in a blast of raw energy. She was blown backwards, landing on her back before the flash of light dissipated and she could see again. She rolled and got to a knee, her other raised in front of her so she had somewhere to lean her numb arm. She caught her breath as the others around her recovered from the blast.

A comforting hand landed on her shoulder blade and she glanced up in exhaustion. "You did it," Cassandra gasped, looking away from her and upwards.

Cirilla raised her eyes to look up at the Breach. The clouds still swirled around a twinge of green, but the rift was gone as well as the crackling bolt of energy that had connected the two. She dropped her head in relief. She was alive and sensation was returning to her hand like the limb had been asleep, pins and needles prickling her skin.

"Can you stand?" Cassandra asked gently.

Cirilla nodded, pushing up from her raised knee and only stumbling briefly as the crowd around her began to cheer. Her heart was light. She had fixed the immediate threat. Now she wanted to return to her cabin and sleep off the exhaustion of closing the Breach.

She awoke to the din of celebration outside her door. From the dimness of the world outside, she guessed she had gotten a good three hours of sleep, missing lunch and dinner. She rose and dressed, strapping her daggers to her hips on instinct. Her dreams had been uneasy, and the hair still stood up on the back of her neck. When she left her cabin, she could barely go two steps without a thankful touch from another pilgrim, villager, or soldier. She bore the price of fame and success with a smile, even as she continuously looked to the sky like the Breach might spring back open and swallow them whole. She made it to Varric's fire where she saw him, Sera and Bull all with drinks in their hands and laughing rowdily. She was tempted to join them, but wanted to find something to fill the pit in her stomach in spite of the fearful nausea the kept welling up in her throat.

There was food near Leliana's tent, and Cirilla followed the scent of roast boar to it's source. Helping herself, she fielded congratulations and thanks as her feet carried her back to where her friends sat. She had nearly cleared her plate by the time she reached them. "There she is!" Varric called, raising his cup to her.

"Drink!" Bull demanded, shoving a large mug into her free hand. Then he laughed at her expression. "Don't worry. It's tavern ale, not from my stash."

"Oh good, because I just slept away the afternoon. I'd rather not sleep away the night too," she joked, taking a sip.

She found herself slipping away sooner than she had expected, unable to shake the feeling that she likely shouldn't wear down her inhibitions or reflexes. She found a quiet spot to watch over the festivities, enjoying the solitude for a change. Normally, she enjoyed company and would have jumped at the chance to find a lute and maybe play a few songs. Not tonight.

She heard footsteps approaching her from behind, a slight limp in their left leg. Cassandra then. She didn't bother turning as the warrior approached. "Solas confirms the heavens are scarred but calm. The Breach is sealed." She stopped beside Cirilla, clasping her hands behind her back and looking out over the revelry just as she was. "We've reports of lingering rifts, and many questions remain, but this was a victory. Word of your heroism has spread."

Cirilla scoffed. "You know how many were involved. Luck put me at the center."

Cassandra smiled. "A strange kind of luck. I'm not sure if we need more or less. But you're right. This was a victory of alliance. One of the few in recent memory. With the Breach closed, that alliance will need new focus."

As if on cue, warning bells began to sound and Cirilla's knot in her throat plummeted into her stomach along with her heart. The partying immediately stopped, the happy faces and laughter replaced by fear and shouting. "Forces approaching! To arms!" Cullen called as he ran through the village toward the gates.

Cassandra gasped and drew her sword. "What the...?" She glanced at Cirilla. "We must get to the gates!"

Cirilla watched her rush off and then forced herself to move. Hopping from her perch, she landed in the midst of a much more sober threesome of Bull, Sera, and Varric. She made eye contact with each of them to be certain they were prepared to fight. She needn't have bothered as they were already at her side with weapons. "This isn't good, and it was never good!" Sera grumbled.

Bull gave her half a smile, "So... celebratory drinks are on hold."

She darted for the gates where Cassandra was asking for a report. Cullen answered briskly as Josephine and Leliana joined them silently. "One watch-guard reporting. It's a massive force, the bulk over the mountain."

"Under what banner?" Josephine demanded as if Haven being attacked was a personal insult and she needed to know who the strongly worded letter should be addressed to.

"None," Cullen reported.

"None?" she repeated, her eyes widening.

As all of this happened around her, Cirilla was drawn to the gate, her feet acting of their own volition. Her warning dreams flickered behind her eyes as small explosions and activity rocked the thick wooden doors. Suddenly a voice called to her, reaching for her specifically. "I can't come in unless you open!" She ran to the gate and heaved with all her might, pushing it open, an Inquisition soldier rushing to her side to help. Just beyond, a large warrior noticed the opening gate and turned to lumber toward her, an axe in his hands. Before he got more than two steps, his chest lurched forward and he dropped to his knees before falling dead.

The killing blow had been issued by a lanky young man no older than twenty years. He wore patchwork clothes, a thin rough cloth shirt and leather pants. His long stringy blonde hair fell over his eyes, hiding his features just as well as his ridiculously floppy brimmed hat. When he looked up at her, she felt drawn to him. His crooked nose and large mouth were somehow familiar. He spoke in a soft tone, scurrying up to her side even as she jogged to meet him. "I'm Cole. I came to warn you. To help. People are coming to hurt you." He let out a short unamused and self deprecating chuckle. "You probably already know."

"What is this? What's going on?" she asked in a panic, as if this boy had all the answers.

"The templars come to kill you," he warned.

He jerked back like a frightened animal, leery, as Cullen approached with his sword drawn and his sharp tone. "Templars? Is this the Order's response to our talks with the mages? Attacking blindly?"

Judging no threat, Cole slithered back to Cirilla's side, his presence soothing. "The red templars went to the Elder One. You know him? He knows you. You took his mages," Cole explained, speaking for Cirilla alone, ignoring Cullen. He turned and pointed to the ridge line above, across Haven's frozen lake. "There."

Cirilla could barely make out two figures standing atop the cliff. One was a man in heavy armor and the other looked twisted and inhuman. "I know that man..." Cullen said softly as he squinted along with her. "But this Elder One..."

"He's very angry that you took his mages," Cole said nervously to her.

"Cullen! Give me a plan! Anything!" she demanded, unable to strategize against such a large force as the one approaching.

"Haven is no fortress," he said regretfully. "If we are to withstand this monster, we must control the battle." He pointed toward a row of trebuchets along Haven's outskirts, the nearest one just at the edges of the makeshift barracks. "Get out there and hit that force. Use everything you can!" As she signaled to her group, Cole slipped away from her side and toward Haven. Cullen turned from her as well and called to the group of soldiers and recruits that had assembled, awaiting orders. "Mages! You... you have sanction to engage them! That is Samson. He will not make it easy!Inquisition! With the Herald! For your lives! For all of us!"

The army rushed to meet the enemy and their engineers hustled toward the trebuchets to begin loading and aiming them. Cirilla, Bull, Sera and Varric guarded the nearest trebuchet, meeting the red templars head on as they began to swarm toward Haven. Most of them were monstrous and deformed, the red lyrium having twisted their bodies into barely human shapes. Some were large and brutish, their transformation seemingly engineered. They were the ones giving orders. Former commanders and captains. They were able to use the lyrium like a weapon, spraying strange static bursts toward their comrades who were immediately turned from tainted foot soldiers to bubbling masses of flesh with shards of lyrium piercing their skin from the inside. Those abominations were the ones you needed to watch out for. They fought viciously with long claws as if they had forgotten how to hold a sword or shield. When that failed, they went into a sort of fit, clutching their heads as their entire bodies shuddered. Their already bulbous chest and back expanded until bursting, the shards ripping from their flesh and rocketing in all directions around them when the pressure became too much. Cirilla swept across the battlefield, cutting them down wherever she saw them so the others could fight without fear of being hit with one of the deadly shards.

Sera caused confusion wherever she went, shattering vials of alchemical mixtures that simulated fire and ice and lightning. It made the red templars seek her like a beacon, thinking there was a mage on the field. When they reached where she had been, she was long gone, causing a ruckus elsewhere and Varric's caltrops kept them in place so he could drop them with bolts from Bianca.

Bull followed Cirilla, cleaning up any victims that were left standing after she whipped through a group with flurries of spinning death and whipped knives full of poison. They were an efficiently deadly team. As the trebuchets began to come into play, the snow from the mountains began to wipe out full platoons of the red templars that were still making their way through the mountain passes. Cirilla and her group were forced up the hill past the smithy to a second trebuchet that had stopped firing. Moving in to re-secure the sapper, they ran into a group of red templars standing over the corpses of the Inquisition soldiers they had killed to gain the ground. Cirilla sought revenge, flicking several knives from her fingertips to drop the front line and then cloaking herself in the shadow of the night to flank the back-line while Bull charged in from the front as a distraction. They took back the trebuchet and she quickly mounted the base and began to turn the wheel that would lift the counterweight and secure the boulder in place.

Arrows and bolts flew past her as Sera and Varric covered her and Bull rushed in to eliminate the threats pouring in, along with the few soldiers who had been caught up in the flow of the battle and ended up at their side. As she cranked the wheel the final quarter turn, the boulder locked into place and she hit the release. The boulder clattered out of it's netting and was flung toward the mountains, hitting a heavily coated peak. The snow rumbled loose and cascaded down the mountain, stopping the approaching army in it's tracks. Cirilla grinned in triumph and Varric excitedly patted her elbow as they watched the fires of the army's torches winking out all over the pass.

Their elation was short lived as a shrill roar echoed across the valley. She barely had time to register the silhouette of the dragon before it swept overhead and released it's flaming breath directly toward them. The fireball slammed into the trebuchet, exploding it in a shower of splintered wood and heavy chunks of metal. Cirilla leapt from the base just in time, the explosion throwing her further than she ever could have jumped on her own. She got to her feet, miraculously unharmed. She glanced around and cringed at the bodies of the soldiers who hadn't been as lucky. Bull, Varric, and Sera were all getting up and a few lucky men were running toward Haven's walls, the busted trebuchet now useless. "No, no, no, shite damned piss no!" Sera cried in a colorful display of her anger at the dragon for ruining everything.

"Everyone to the gates!" Cirilla ordered, taking off at a run herself, making sure they followed before picking up speed. She only paused to assist Harrit to get the door to the forge's storage open so he could 'grab essentials'.

When they got to the gates, Cullen was ushering all of the stragglers inside, breathing a sigh of relief when he spotted her and her group. "Everyone inside! Move it, move it!" Once they were through and no one seemed to be behind them, he pushed the doors shut. The dragon's wings flapped overhead and it shrieked, laying down fire as it went. "We need everyone back to the Chantry! It's the only building that might hold against... that beast!" Cullen ordered as he swept past and up the stairs. He turned a despondent and angry scowl toward her. "At this point... just make them work for it."

"People need to move! Round them up!" Sera cried as Cirilla followed after the determined Commander. She broke off to the right where one of the templars that had been with them since the beginning, Lysette, was fighting off some of the red ones that had been ambitious enough to climb over the spiked fences that surrounded Haven. Once the red templars were dead, they sent her on her way to the Chantry.

Further up into the village proper, while they fought templars, Cirilla heard pleas for help. She made her way to one of the small houses that lined the village. Grabbing the door handle, she burned her hand only to find it blocked. "Bull!" she shouted. He was at her side in an instant and kicked the door off it's hinges. She rushed inside the burning house and spotted Seggrit, the not so charming merchant that hung around the village. Shifting fallen wooden rafters out of her way, she helped him to his feet and out of the building, handing his limping body off to another soldier that was heading for the Chantry. Flissa, the tavern waitress, she found pinned in the tavern beneath some fallen bits of building. She carefully extricated her as the roof over head creaked and cracked under the heat. Flissa fled when Cirilla helped her from the building, coughing against the smoke that was turning Haven into a hazy nightmare. Outside the apothecary, both Adan and Minaeve (their magical researcher) were trapped near a few pallets stacked with barrels full of explosives. A trail of fire was licking dangerously close to the barrels. She quickly kicked dirt over the fire while Sera and Varric got the people to their feet and out of harm's way. They were getting closer to the Chantry themselves, and the streets were emptying quickly.

"Need some help here!" Quartermaster Threnn was fighting off a large group of red templars to the side of the Chantry by herself. Cirilla darted in, swallowing another chest heaving bought of coughing. She was likely caked in soot and ash from head to foot if what she could see of her clothing was any indication. That didn't matter. She distracted the large leader so he couldn't convert any of the foot soldiers, leaving them vulnerable to her companions. Then Bull finished him off with one swing of his ax. Threnn sighed in relief. "Thank you! These shits almost had me. Let's go!"

"That's the lot of them," Varric agreed, urging Cirilla toward the open doors of the Chantry.

As they approached, she noticed Chancellor Roderick leaning in the doorway, calling in a choked voice. "Move! Keep going! The Chantry is your shelter!"

As they all darted in, the Chancellor nearly collapsed and Cole calmly slipped in beside him to catch him before he hit the ground. Cirilla saw the spreading stain of blood on his gut, blending with the red of his robes. "He tried to stop a templar," the soft spoken boy said. "The blade went deep. He's going to die."

He helped Roderick limp to a chair as the Chancellor winced in pain and said sarcastically. "What a charming boy."

Before Cirilla could get her hands on Roderick to help, Cullen jogged up to her. "Herald! Our position is not good. That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us."

Cole interrupted, commanding attention even as he barely spoke above a whisper. "I've seen an Archdemon. I was in the Fade, but it looked like that."

"I don't care what it looks like," Cullen snapped. "It has cut a path for that army. They'll kill everyone in Haven!"

As Cole crouched by Chancellor Roderick, he ignored Cullen's hostile tone and said, "The Elder One doesn't care about the village. He only wants the Herald."

Cirilla found herself adopting Cole's calm tone as she spoke to the boy. "If you know why he wants me, just say it."

"I don't," Cole admitted sadly. "He's too loud, It hurts to hear him." As puzzling as his words were, she listened raptly. "He wants to kill you. No one else matters, but he'll crush them, kill them anyway. I don't like him."

"You don't like...?" Cullen began to berate Cole's comments but stopped himself, rolling his eyes and redirecting his attention. "Herald, there are no tactics to make this survivable. The only thing that slowed them was the avalanche. We could turn the remaining trebuchets, cause one last slide."

"We're overrun," she pointed out. "To hit the enemy, we'd bury Haven."

Cullen sighed. "We're dying, but we can decide how. Many don't get that choice."

Before she could protest again, Cole glanced behind him toward the rear of the Chantry and smiled. "Yes, that." His voice rose only high enough to be heard. "Chancellor Roderick can help. He wants to say it before he dies."

Roderick sucked in a ragged breath. "There is a path. You wouldn't know it unless you'd made the summer pilgrimage. As I have." He dragged himself to his feet, his arm pressed over his bleeding wound. "The people can escape. She must have shown me. Andraste must have shown me so I could... tell you."

Cirilla moved to the man's side, her hands gently holding him aloft and she whispered. "What are you on about, Roderick?"

"It was whim that I walked the path. I did not mean to start... It was overgrown. Now, with so many in the Conclave dead, to be the only one who remembers... I don't know, Herald." She blinked, listening more closely as her number one naysayer called her by her given title. "If this simple memory can save us, this could be more than mere accident. _You_ could be more."

Cirilla drew herself up, shifting Roderick to Cole's care once more. "If that thing is here for me, I'll make him fight for it."

Before Bull could speak the protest she saw on his lips, Cullen piped up. "And when the mountain falls? What about you?" When she looked to the Commander, his eyes were wide with concern. She looked away and exchanged a hard look with each of the faces that were poised to stop her. After a moment of silence, Cullen sighed. "Perhaps you will surprise it, find a way..." he turned from her and began shouting orders to those milling about and Cirilla spun on her companions.

"No," she said simply. "You're not talking me out of this. I'm the Herald, and I will save these people."

Bull pressed his lips together and grunted. "Well then we're going with you."

Her protest was interrupted by Roderick's strained voice. "Herald... If you are meant for this, it the Inquisition is meant for this, I pray for you."

She offered him a solemn nod of thanks, and Cullen returned with a small group of soldiers. "They'll load the trebuchets. Keep the Elder One's attention until we're above the tree line." He paused and looked her over once in admiration. "If we are to have a chance... if _you_ are to have a chance... let that thing hear you."

Cirilla, Bull, Varric and Sera exited the Chantry with the soldiers who immediately parted from them to do their jobs and then scatter. "If there's one thing I know, it's how to get an asshole's attention!" Varric said loudly, drawing the attention of some milling red templars. As they fought through the decimated village, Cirilla mourned the homes of the people. The houses were gutted and nearly everything that could catch fire, had. Her lungs burned from the falling ash and lingering smoke, but still she fought.

When they reached the trebuchets, they were all loaded, but the soldiers had either been killed or forced to flee before they could aim them. Between vicious waves of red templars drawn in by the sounds of battle in the otherwise silent valley, Cirilla grabbed hold of the wheel and cranked it slowly toward the nearest snow capped mountain. When Varric shouted in alarm, she spun to see that a massive walking shard of red lyrium had lumbered onto the field. Had that once been a person? She drew on her abilities and the enchantments in her daggers, her voice ringing clear past the smoke in her lungs and began to sing one of the songs that would captivate her enemies. The monster fell into her trap, shuffling toward her on it's crystal legs and ignoring everything but her voice. It allowed Bull to slash relentlessly at it and Varric and Sera to pepper it with projectiles without it attacking back with it's club like arm that was the size of Bull. It finally fell just as it was getting uncomfortably close to where she stood, shattering to pieces when it hit the ground.

She stopped singing and coughed out the itch in her throat. Once she had cleared her lungs, she rushed back to the crank. "That's all of them, for the moment. Once this thing is aimed, I want you all gone!" she ordered. "I'll stay here to keep his attention. Shoot me a signal once you're clear."

She ignored the protesting glares and cranked the trebuchet around, the movement of the base echoing out over the area. She decided to draw even more attention to herself by singing a song that would strengthen her muscles. She sung loudly, allowing her voice to carry on the winds.

The trebuchet clicked into place and she heard the flapping of the dragon's wings overhead. She spotted it above as it flew past the moonlit clouds tinted green. It roared and diverted it's course, momentarily silhouetting it's tattered wings against the sky before it dove for them. "Move! Now!" she cried, jetting as far from the trebuchet as she could to avoid repeating the destruction of their last weapon.

Her friends scattered as red hot flames licked at her heels from the dragon's breath. She dropped to the ground to shield her head and face. Heat rose all around her and some of the barrels that were in the area exploded, knocking her away and winding her as she landed on her back. Her head hit the frozen ground and her vision swam. She just laid there a moment, her eyelids fluttering as she fought to remain conscious. Slowly, she got to her feet and the first thing she saw was the Elder One approaching her through the flames, like he was impervious to them. It was a gruesome, but impressive, sight standing ten feet tall. His body was infested with red lyrium from head to foot. His skin was stretched and wrinkled from age, like a long dead corpse, leathery and hard. The robes and bits of armor that he wore had fused with the lyrium and his flesh, strips of his skin pulled unnaturally around the outside of a pointed metal breastplate. His feathered pauldrons broadened his thin shoulders, giving his torso a V shape. His face was twisted and fused with several shards of red lyrium which fanned out in a sharp pinwheel shape around his left and a matted and solidified hood obscured the right. His eyes remained eerily human above the cracked and broken hair lip that exposed some of his yellowed teeth in a permanent snarl.

As he approached swiftly, the dragon landed with an earthshaking thud behind her, dividing her attention as it lifted it's head to the sky and roared. The noise was deafening and she backed away as it dipped it's long neck to rumble a growl at her. It's breath smelled of lyrium and rot. It's black wings and skin were similarly corrupted to it's master, hardened and fused with red lyrium that hummed and glowed. She didn't get much of a chance to stare it down as the Elder One spoke in a deep and resonating voice that thrummed in her chest. "Enough!" The dragon turned docile as the Elder One sent a blast of air toward her and it, dousing the flames that stood in his way. She raised her arm to block the dust that swirled up between them. "Pretender." He addressed her. "You toy with forces beyond your ken. No more."

"Whatever you are, I'm not afraid," she said boldly, taking a step towards him.

"Words mortals often hurl at the darkness. Once they were mine. They are always lies. Know me, know what you have pretended to be. Exalt the Elder One! The _will_ that is Corypheus!" He lifted a gnarled hand and pointed a long bony finger tipped with a sharp claw at her. "You will kneel."

"Why are you here? What do you want from us?" she demanded, refusing to cow just because he demanded it.

"I ask for nothing, because it is not in your power to give. But that will not stop me." In his left hand, he produced an orb swirling with indecipherable patterns. He held it up on display. As he continued to speak, it erupted with magic both green like the mark on her hand and foggy and red like the glow of red lyrium. The two magics mingled and he glanced at it admiringly. "I'm here for the _Anchor_. The process of removing it begins now." He thrust his right hand toward her and more magic flowed from it, red and corrupted. Her mark immediately reacted, crackling with it's own magic. She fought the pull of his spell, dragging her un-listening hand back toward her by grabbing it by the wrist with her opposite hand. "It is your fault, 'Herald'. You interrupted a ritual years in the planning, and instead of dying, you stole it's purpose." He twisted his wrist, intensifying the magic and pulling harder on her arm. Shocking pain danced up and down her forearm and she gritted her teeth, fighting to remain in control of her own limb. "I do not know how you survived, but what marks you as 'touched', what you flail at rifts, I crafted to assault the very heavens." The mark was widening on her palm and the stabbing, throbbing pain lanced further up her arm like her veins were on fire. He clenched his fist and reopened it, pushing more power into what he was doing. The renewed assault dragged her to her knees with a cry of pain as a crackling of red joined the green. The dragon stepped closer, drawn by the magic. She remained on her knees, bent double and clutching her wrist, her forehead to the ground as she tried to breathe through the agony. Still he rambled. "And you used the Anchor to undo my work! The gall!"

She lifted her head, fighting for breath and shouted in an unsteady voice. "It's a boon from Andraste! She saved my life!"

He tipped his head in what, on a human, might have translated as sympathy. "Then your Lady wished me to kill you, for Her 'boon' is a beacon I cannot let escape." He lowered his arm, the magic slowing and the agony lessening, allowing her to breathe. He was on her in an instant, grabbing her arm in his overly large hand and lifting her from the ground. She dangled in mid air, her muscles straining as he wrenched her shoulder nearly out of place so he could look her in the eyes. "I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the Old Gods of the empire _in person_." The red hue faded from her hand as some more of the pain receded while he spoke. She glared at him, powerless to do anything but dangle like a fish on a hook while he countered everything she had ever believed in. "I found only chaos and corruption. Dead whispers. For a thousand years I was confused. No more. I have gathered the _will_ to return under no name but my own, to champion withered Tevinter and correct this Blighted world. Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the throne of the gods, and _it was empty_!" He threw her in disgust like she weighed nothing and she slammed back first into the side of the trebuchet. She crumbled, her arm useless, the toss pulling it free of it's socket, and the wind knocked out of her in a whimper. Her vision swam again ."The Anchor is permanent. You have spoiled it with your stumbling." There was a sword lying abandoned beside her and fighting the pain, she scrambled off her ass and grabbed it up, getting to her feet and looking around for an exit. He was slowly bearing down on her, the anxious dragon at his side, rumbling in it's throat. "So be it. I will begin again, find another way to give this world the nation... and _god_... it requires." Feeling him getting closer, her panicked mind forced her head on a swivel. First, she spotted the twinkle of light rising swiftly into the sky. Her friends were clear. The plan had worked. So far. "And you. I will not suffer even an unknowing rival. You _must _die." Second, she spotted a dip in the ground to her left.

A plan snapped into her head and she forced her numb fingers to wrap around the hilt of the sword, lifting it before her in defiance with both hands. Taking one step closer to him she summoned a defiant grin to match her stance. "You expect us to surrender and kneel. We will not. You'll face us all. When _we _choose!" She spun and kicked the lever that would release the boulder. As it left the trebuchet, Corypheus watched it fly and in his distraction, she dropped the sword and ran. She heard the dragon roar in frustration just before it's wings flapped and the ground shook, signaling it taking off, likely with Corypheus in it's grip. She didn't dare turn to find out, pumping her legs as quickly as they would carry her, the ground rumbling beneath her feet. She sprinted for the dip in the ground, hoping it was one of the abandoned mining tunnels that ran under Haven exposed by the destruction. She threw herself into the abyss just as the mountain roared behind her. Her body slammed against a cross beam as she tried to fold herself up and fit into the small break in the ceiling of the tunnel. She hit the ground and the next thing she knew was blackness.

She awoke, Maker knew how long after her plummet. Everything hurt. She grunted with every move she made in the effort to get to her feet and out from under the freezing layer of snow that had followed her into the tunnel. Her left side ached with every breath, and her arm hung limply at her side. Reaching around with her right hand, she gently prodded her tender ribs. The shooting pain that followed spoke of at least one broken rib. The pounding in her head with every heartbeat made her think she had a concussion.

Taking stock of her injuries, she glanced around in the darkness, only the insistent light from the mark to illuminate her surroundings. Seeing what looked like the only way out, Cirilla forced her feet to shuffle toward it, a limp favoring her broken ribs. On a stroke of luck, there was only one discernible path she could follow. It had to let out somewhere. After shuffling along for what felt like forever, her teeth chattering against the cold, an aching in her chest began to bring tears to her eyes. Hopelessness enveloped her and whispers of despair flitted on the wind. The feelings were not natural and Cirilla bit back the tears and pressed forward. She found the source not far down the tunnel. Several hideous looking demons floated on the air, emanating an icy aura around them. Unnaturally thin arms and legs peeked out of pint sized robes that hid their features. They were no larger than a toddler and shrill deafening cries echoed around the cavern from their throats. Cirilla could barely stand the choking feeling of despair that hung around them. Her emotions drew on the mark, summoning it to action. She cried out as her dislocated shoulder was drawn upwards and the mark crackled with a new and unfamiliar magic. Above the floating demons, a rift appeared, summoned by the mark. It worked in reverse, sucking the demons back into the Fade and then snapping closed. Exhaustion nearly overwhelmed her, her vision blackening around the edges. She reached out to brace herself against the wall, catching her breath.

Once she was able, she pressed forward. Outside the tunnel, she stumbled out into a freezing wind that cut through her clothing as if she were wearing nothing at all. She huddled around herself, her teeth chattering with renewed vigor. She trudged through the ankle deep snow as the wind created deeper drifts in her path. As much as she tried to keep her eyes to the ground and focus on finding signs of the rest of the Inquisition, her mind wandered. The mark was not Andraste's. She had been a fool to think that the Lady would choose her. She was at best a liar, at worst, a murderer. No matter how much she believed, that was no reason that above all others she would be chosen. Why she continued to survive was beyond her.

The day stretched to night, and her limbs were barely responding. She could no longer feel her toes or the tips of her ears. Her jaw ached from the cold and the chattering of her teeth. She didn't dare stop to try and start a fire. She might never get moving again. Every fire pit she came across was cold, no embers remaining. The only thing that kept her going was the realization that with each fire she came across it was one step in the right direction. With so many villagers and injured, they could not have gotten too far in this weather.

She hit a steep incline that led to a channel above. She lurched toward it, hoping that the tall rocks might grant her a reprieve from the howling wind. When she hit the opening, the dead air without the wind brought an elation like she had never known when she heard the bustling of a large camp. She dropped to her knees, calling out as best she could with her weakened voice. She needn't have bothered. People were already flocking toward her. "Thank the Maker!" Cassandra shouted after Cullen pointed her out.

He was the first to reach her, and he dropped beside her, a slew of questions rolling from his mouth. She slumped against him, out of strength for anything besides the fluttering of her eyelids as she fought to stay alert. "Out of the way!" a most welcome voice demanded. Her prop was removed but before she fell flat into the snow, large hands supported her. "I got you, boss." Bull lifted her like she weighed nothing and she huddled against his warm chest, such a welcome reprieve from the freezing metal of Cullen's cuirass. A group huddled around them as he carried her into the camp.

"Fasta vass," Dorian cursed as his face swam into view when Bull gently laid her on a cot.

Cirilla didn't remember much else for the next few hours as she was poked and prodded and her injuries tended. She laid bundled up in a tent in a semi conscious state listening to the sounds of the people around her. After a while, the familiar sounds of arguing suffused the normal din of a packed camp. After listening to the shouting outside her tent for longer than was necessary, she sat up, propping herself up on her elbow. She was not up long before Mother Giselle's soft voice joined the ruckus. "Shh," she soothed, a gentle hand on Cirilla's shoulder. "You need rest."

"They've been at it for hours," Cirilla pointed out, her throat straining around the scraping of thirst. Mother Giselle handed her a glass and she sipped it thankfully.

"They have that luxury, thanks to you. The enemy could not follow, and with time to doubt, we turn to blame. Infighting may threaten as much as this Corypheus," Giselle said sadly.

"Do we know where Corypheus and his forces are?" Cirilla asked her.

"We are not sure where _we_ are. Which may be why, despite the numbers he still commands, there is no sign of him. That, or you are believed dead. Or without Haven, we are thought helpless. Or he girds for another attack. I cannot claim to know the mind of that creature, only his effect on us."

Cirilla sighed. "If they're arguing about what we do next, I need to be there."

Giselle shook her head. "Another heated voice won't help. Even yours. Perhaps especially yours." She paused before explaining. "Our leaders struggle because of what we survivors witnessed. We saw our defender stand... and fall. And now, we have seen her _return_." Cirilla sat up, unraveling herself from the dozens of blankets meant to warm her up after her exposure. "The more the enemy is beyond us, the more miraculous your actions appear. And the more our trials seem ordained." Cirilla's head was hung to hide the doubt that she now felt. "That is hard to accept, no? What 'we' have been called to endure? What 'we', perhaps, must come to believe?"

"I escaped the avalanche. Barely, perhaps, but I didn't die." She couldn't bear to look Giselle in the face as she tried to break it gently that she had lost her faith on the trek from Haven.

"Of course, and the dead cannot return from across the Veil. But the people know what they saw. Or, perhaps, what they needed to see. The Maker works both in the moment, and in how it is remembered. Can we truly know the Heavens are _not_ with us?"

Cirilla finally looked up at Giselle and pleaded with her eyes for answers. "You saw Corypheus. What do you think of his claims of assaulting the Heavens?"

"Scripture says magisters, Tevinter servants of the false Old Gods, entered the Fade to reach the Golden City, seat of the Maker. For their crime, they were cast out as Darkspawn. Their hubris is why we suffer Blight, and why the Maker turned from us. If such is the claim of this Corypheus, he is a monster beyond imagining. All mankind continues to suffer for that sin. If even a shred of it is true, all the more reason Andraste would choose someone to rise against him."

Cirilla shook her head. "Corypheus said he found only corruption and emptiness. Nothing golden."

"If he entered that place, it has changed him without and within. The living are not meant to make that journey. Perhaps these are lies he must tell himself, rather than accept that he earned the scorn of the Maker. I know I could not bear such."

Cirilla fidgeted, sighing as her mind raced. Finally she stood and paced toward the exit as she spoke bitterly. "Whatever I may have believed, I felt no divine aid while Haven was destroyed. I want to believe Andraste is with me, but doubt is everywhere."

She slapped open the tent flap and headed out to gaze over the camp. The arguing had ceased at some point while she talked with Mother Giselle, Josephine and Leliana sat together in silence, looking defeated. Cassandra poured uselessly over a map spread out on a hastily set up table. Cullen stood alone, turning in circles, and looking lost. She didn't know how to help. Despair and faithlessness was new for her. She had never been tested this hard before. Suddenly from behind her, Mother Giselle emerged from the tent and began to sing. The hymn was one that Cirilla knew well, the melody vibrating through her as the Mother sang loudly enough for all to hear.

_Shadows fall_

_and hope had fled_

_Steel your heart_

_The dawn will come_

_The night is long_

_and the path is dark_

_Look to the sky_

_for one day soon_

_The dawn will come_

As Giselle sang, people began to take notice, looking up from their chores and seeing Cirilla standing beside Giselle. By the next verse, the song began to spread, Leliana's melodic voice taking up the words first and encouraging others to as well. Inspiring each other, some began to flock towards her, saluting or bowing or simply smiling gratefully as they sang.

_The shepherd's lost_

_and his home is far_

_Keep to the stars_

_The dawn will come_

_The night is long _

_and the path is dark_

_Look to the sky_

_for one day soon_

_The dawn will come_

_Bare your blade_

_and raise it high_

_Stand your ground_

_The dawn will come_

_The night is long_

_and the path is dark_

_Look to the sky_

_for one day soon_

_The dawn will come_

At a loss, Cirilla stared out over the crowd. They began to disperse and Giselle said softly, "You may have lost faith, but they haven't. They have found it." She left without a backwards glance, moving through the crowd and offering kind words and smiles where they were needed.

Cirilla jumped as from out of nowhere, Solas was behind her. "A word?" he asked briskly before heading away without waiting for her answer. She rolled her eyes, following along behind him as he led her toward a secluded edge of the camp. There was an unlit torch jammed into the snow, and he released some mana to light it and stand by it for warmth. Cirilla joined him, huddling nearer to the fire, her bones still feeling chilled after she'd suffered hypothermia for hours. The healers had saved her extremities, but she was convinced it would be a while before she felt truly warm again. She hugged herself and he watched her with both scorn and curiosity. "A wise woman, worth heeding," he said, referring to Mother Giselle. "Her kind understand the moments that unify a cause... or fracture it." He paused to grimace before continuing. "The orb Corypheus carried, the power he used against you. It is elven. Corypheus used the orb to open the Breach. Unlocking it must have caused the explosion that destroyed the conclave. I do not yet know how Corypheus survived... nor am I certain how people will react when they learn of the orb's origin."

"All right," she said, willing to listen to anything that told her more about the Monster, regardless of how Solas had learned about what happened between her and Corypheus. He had likely gone sniffing around the Fade while she recovered. "What is it, and how do you know about it?"

"They were foci, used to channel magicks. I have seen such things in the Fade, old memories of older magic. Corypheus may think it Tevinter. His empire's magic was built on the bones of my people. Knowing or not, he risks our alliance. I cannot allow it."

Cirilla narrowed her eyes. "If you've something that will help us, now's the time," she gestured to the mass of soldiers and civilians stranded in the freezing mountains. No one else seemed to have any ideas.

"Yes," he conceded. "Judging by the faithful, now _is_ the time."

Solas led them north through the mountains, guiding her so she could guide them. She was the 'Herald' after all. They came across his destination mid-morning on the second day. Through a break in the peaks, she saw the massive stronghold. It was high above, built into one of the larger mountains. A long stone bridge connected the entrance to a shorter climb. From what Cirilla could see, it was the only entrance. Towers of differing heights surrounded the main structure, built up from thick battlements. There was obvious disrepair, even from this distance, but it looked large enough to hold them.

She was the first to reach the main gates, stepping from the freezing wind of the mountains into a gentle breeze that tossed her hair. She gasped in amazement. There was magic here. For the first time in days, her chest warmed, the sensation radiating through her bones as she stopped in her tracks, to drink it in. People began to swarm in around her, similar reactions to the welcoming feeling passing through the masses. She wandered further in, acclimating herself to her new environment. Immediately to her right, there was a pile of rubble from crumbled battlements blocking access to the rest of the lower courtyard. She diverted, heading for the tall stone staircase that led to an upper courtyard and access to more of the castle. The grass was patchy and overgrown, but there was no hint that snow had ever touched the ground. Moss and vines grew up the side of the main structure, drawing her eyes up to the facade. Several balconies surrounded the towers, accessible from stained glass doors and windows that were severely cracked and broken. She got lost in the pull of the place, her feet carrying her wherever she could reach. Many of the doors were blocked by fallen rubble, leaving her aching for more.

When she returned to the main gates, most of the Inquisition had made it inside and tents and temporary quarters were springing up all around the courtyards. People were smiling and shedding layers as they settled in. Some of the men had already begun to sift through some of the rubble, attempting to open up more room for everyone to squeeze in. Just inside the gates, for convenience's sake, a makeshift infirmary had been set up for those seriously injured. Surgeons and healers took over the space, settling the wounded on cots and bedrolls. Cirilla saw Cole wandering through the sick and dying, a pained expression twisting his mouth into a grimace. Cirilla had no serious medical training, so she hurried to join the men moving rocks.

Her first day in Skyhold, as Solas called it, was spent hard at work. When she could no longer shift another boulder, she set to assisting those that were setting up tents. The people welcomed her help with surprise and reverence. Giselle was right. She may not believe anymore, but these people needed her to be their Herald. She put on a smile and lent every hand she could, ending her day helping the servants to pass out rations. When the sun crept down below the battlements, Cirilla dragged her weary bones back down to the gates and found space to lay out a bedroll where she collapsed in exhaustion.

For three days, she met newcomers at the gates, helping to carry crates and supplies or assign space until more of the castle was opened up. The morning of their fourth day, she woke and prepared herself for another day of labor, exiting the tower she had been sleeping in to the bustle of the early morning. There was always someone working in Skyhold. She glanced around, looking for somewhere to lend her help, and saw Cassandra, Cullen, Leliana, and Josie grouped near the bottom of the stairs to the upper courtyard. Cassandra beckoned her over and she obliged, approaching as they all smiled at her and the other three dispersed. Cassandra clasped her hands behind her back, watching as more newcomers made their way through the open gates. "They arrive daily from every settlement in the region. Skyhold is becoming a pilgrimage." With a tip of her head for Cirilla to follow she started up the stairs. "If word has reached these people, it will have reached the Elder One. We have the walls and numbers to put up a fight here, but this threat is far beyond the war we anticipated. But we now know what allowed you to stand against Corypheus, what drew him to you."

Cirilla stopped her under the arch that was the base of the second flight of stairs that led to the still closed off main hall. "Why should I care why he's after me? He's a monster. Mad."

Cassandra pursed her lips. "You should care because he sees in you what we all see, and it has nothing to do with the mark on your hand." She continued into the upper courtyard and circled around to begin climbing the next flight. "Your decisions let us heal the sky. Your determination brought us out of Haven. You are that Creature's rival because of what _you_ did. And we know it. All of us." They approached the hexagonal landing where the staircase turned and Leliana was standing primly with a large ornamental sword poised on her open palms. "The Inquisition requires a leader. The one who has already been leading it." Cirilla glanced down to the gates where a crowd had gathered below. Cullen and Josephine at their head. "You," Cassandra finished.

Cirilla returned her attention to the woman, her eyes wide and her heart thumping in terror. "It's unanimous? You all have that much confidence in me?"

"All of these people have their lives because of you. They will follow," Cassandra said evasively.

"That wasn't the question," Cirilla pressed.

"I will not lie, handing this power to anyone is troubling. But I have to believe this is meant to be." Cassandra turned, her hand gesturing to the sword in offering. Cirilla stepped up and studied the ornate grip, a dragon swirling around the pommel. "There would be no Inquisition without you. How it will serve, how you lead, that must be yours to decide."

Cirilla tentatively reached out with her right hand, touching fingertips to the sword and waiting to be burned by the lies. The metal was cool to the touch and she sighed, resigning to the decision of the masses. Wrapping her hand around the hilt, she lifted the heavy burden and held it before her, catching her own reflection in the polished blade. She was a stranger to herself, her scars not the only thing that made it so. She felt hollow without her belief that had once been so strong. Her life would never be the same. "Corypheus will never let me live in peace. He made that clear. He intends to be a god, to rule over us all. Corypheus must be stopped," she declared.

"Wherever you lead us," Cassandra said with a sigh of relief, moving up beside her. "Have our people been told?" she called out over the crowd.

Josephine answered, her voice ringing through the courtyard. "They have. And soon the world!"

"Commander!" Cassandra called. "Will they follow?"

Cullen turned to the crowd and rallied them."Inquisition, will you follow?" Fists pumped into the air with accompanying shouts of agreement. "Will you fight?" More positive shouts filled the air. "Will we triumph?" When the crowd was properly motivated, he drew his sword to salute her. "Your leader, your Herald, your _Inquisitor_!" Cirilla returned the gesture, swept up by the sheer faith the people had in her. She thrust the heavy sword skyward and the crowd lost it. Shouting and cheering.

Cullen and Josephine made their way up to them and Cirilla accepted their congratulations, Cassandra relieving her of the burden of the sword and taking her leave. The ceremony over, they headed up the last of the stairs to the untouched doors of the main hall as the people got back to work below. Cirilla was numb, unable to grasp how after everything that had happened they could still believe. Cullen patted her shoulder with a sideways grin and together they pushed open the heavy wooden doors. They opened with an echoing bang. The doors were large enough that they could all enter together, four abreast.

Cirilla allowed her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting as the sun poured in through the open doors, cracking the darkness in half along the middle of the hall. It was a mess inside, as it had been outside. Piles of splintered wood from the rafters and rotting furniture laid in piles along the walls There was a smell of moldy cloth from the disintegrating runner carpet that had once spanned the length of the hall from the doors to the dais where a simple throne sat silhouetted by more of the massive stained glass windows like she had seen from below. Along the walls, six doors stood evenly spaced, to lead from the main hall to other parts of the castle. Tapestries dotted the space between, moth eaten and tattered and a pair of chandeliers laid broken and abandoned among the rubble. It pained Cirilla to see such majesty in such disrepair. Closing her eyes, she began to picture what this place could look like and Josephine squeaked, jumping to the side of bump against Cirilla's arm. She opened her eyes just in time to see the flurry of movement that their presence had stirred. She smiled and patted Josie's arm comfortingly as the ambassador regained her composure.

"So this is where it begins," Cullen said with a sigh, toeing some of the wood with his armored boot and stirring up a swirl of visible dust in the ray of sun that tickled Cirilla's nose and made her sneeze.

"It began in the courtyard," Leliana corrected, her own opinion of the hall a mystery as she stood with her hands securely behind her back. "This is where we turn that promise into action."

"But what do we do?" Josephine asked as Cirilla moved away from the group to pick her way further into the hall and begin uncovering a pair of deep braziers that would serve to light the area and make it easier for the workers once they got in there to begin on repairs. "We know nothing about this Corypheus except that he wanted your mark."

The advisers, _her_ advisers, gathered around her as she clenched her fist around the mark. She turned to regard them, all looking to her for guidance. "Could he strike at us here? We can't have a repeat of what happened at Haven."

Cullen shook his head. "Skyhold has the bones to withstand Corypheus. After what you did with one trebuchet, I'd bet against direct attack."

"We do have one advantage," Leliana pointed out. "We know what Corypheus intends to do _next_. In that strange future you experienced, Empress Celene had been assassinated."

"Imagine the chaos her death would cause. With his army..." Josie said nervously.

"An army he'll bolster with a massive force of demons, or so the future tells us," Cullen added.

"Corypheus could conquer the entire south of Thedas, god or no god," Josie finished.

Leliana sighed heavily, finally relaxing her shoulders. "I'd feel better if we knew more about what we were dealing with."

They all looked toward the doors as Varric made his presence known by speaking up. "I know someone who can help with that." Cirilla moved ahead of the group and listened. She trusted Varric and any help was welcome. "Everyone acting all inspirational jogged my memory, so I sent a message to an old friend. He's crossed paths with Corypheus before, and may know more about what he's doing. He can help."

"I'm always looking for new allies. Introduce me," Cirilla agreed.

Varric looked around as if hunting for prying ears then said evasively, "Parading around might cause a fuss. It's better for you to meet privately. On the battlements. Trust me. It's complicated." Then he turned away and left, presumably to go back to his friend to wait for her.

"Well, then," Josie said, all business. "We stand ready to move on both of these concerns."

"On your order, Inquisitor," Cullen agreed with a teasing grin.

"I know one thing," Leliana chuckled. "If Varric has brought who I _think_ he has, Cassandra is going to kill him."

Cirilla nodded for them to get to work. First things first, they needed to get the castle in working order.

As the castle opened up and the crowds began to disperse, she was starting to catch glimpses of some of her other companions. She returned to helping wherever she could and by midday, she likely no longer looked like Inquisitor material. When Vivienne stopped her in the upper courtyard near dusk and tsked, her concerns were confirmed. "Maker! You're a mess! Let me have a look at you. Are you all right, my dear? Were you hurt? You look dreadful."

Cirilla waved off her fussing and joked halfheartedly. "You should have seen me an hour ago."

Vivienne crossed her arms and pursed her thick lips. "We should do something about this dirt. We don't want you frightening the faithful. Let's keep up appearances. You've handled this crisis competently, saving as many lives as you did. But the enemy struck a serious blow against the Inquisition. We must recognize that. _You_ must."

Cirilla felt a surge of confidence that she was convinced spawned from the magic around Skyhold. "You're wrong. We now have a better location and far more people at our disposal. This couldn't have worked out better if I'd planned it."

"Yet we can hardly rely upon the whims of providence to give us all our victories," Vivienne scoffed disapprovingly. "This defeat may have turned to our advantage, but it will not last long. Our enemy advances, Inquisitor. We must not sit idly by. Act first, and teach them to fear us. I think you know what needs to be done, my dear."

What did Vivienne think she had been doing with her day besides improving things for the people? Cirilla scowled and charged off in a huff to head back inside the main hall and check on progress.

The mess on the floor had been cleaned up, the usable wood now burning in the braziers she had uncovered and the rest discarded. The hall looked brighter and some of the doors had been uncovered. Scaffolding was beginning to rise up the walls so that the dust and cobwebs could be handled and the rotten tapestries removed. Several men were inspecting the state of the chains that would raise and lower the chandeliers. Small notes were made and pinned to some of the scaffolding that described the direction they planned to head in as they moved forward. Cirilla crossed her arms and admired the progress.

She saw his shadow approaching her from behind as it was cast along the floor. She turned to smile at Bull. She hadn't had much time to stop and take a breath in the last week, and she realized she had missed the time she spent with him and her other friends. "Inquisitor, huh?" he asked appraisingly. "Well, you've got the fortress for it. Speaking of which, when you've got a second, there's something I wanna show you."

"What did you want me to come see?" she wondered as she noticed the wad of clothing in his hands.

He held the clothes out to her. "Here, come on. I'll show you."

With a raised brow, she accepted the clothes.They were nothing special, a jacket and baggy pants. She pulled them on over what she was wearing and held her arms outward in presentation. "Why am I dressed like this?"

"You'll see," he said teasingly tipping his head for her to follow. "Come on, it'll be worth your time. I promise." He led her down to the lower courtyard where some of the soldiers had been camping. "Evening," he said, pulling a seat up next to a pair of soldiers playing cards over a drink. "Iron Bull. My merc band just joined up."

"Tanner," the man replied in greeting. "I'm from Jader. Well, near Jader."

"Mira," the older woman said. "I was guard-captain for Lady Pendell. Signed on after shit blew up at the Conclave. Share a drink?" she offered them both a cup. "Who's your friend.?"

Cirilla schooled her expression neutral around the shock that they had no clue who she was. Bull glanced at her and shrugged. "This is Grim. She doesn't talk much." Taking a sip of her drink, she grunted in affirmation. Pleased with her playing along, Bull continued as if nothing were amiss. "So you ready to kill some demons or Venatori... or whatever that Corypheus asshole is?"

"This isn't just about killing," Mira scolded. "We're helping the Inquisitor save the world and build the next empire."

Cirilla grunted again, nearly choking on her ale. Bull ran interference. "Well, long as I get paid, I'm happy. That's why I signed up."

Tanner shrugged. "I just couldn't spend my whole life on a farm. Needed to live a little, you know?"

"What about you, Mira?" Bull wondered. "Why'd you sign up? I thought you were serving some noble."

"I saw what happened at Haven. The Inquisitor staring down that monster and his Archdemon... I don't sing the Chant of Light as much as I should, but you can't see something like that and not believe."

Bull stood and she joined him. "Well, Grim and I should find our tents. Thanks for the drink." She followed him back to the upper courtyard where he turned a smile on her. "I know every soldier under my command. You don't have that option... but a few faces might help."

"You made it sound like you didn't like the Inquisition," she pointed out, slowly getting out of the extra layer of clothing.

"People don't always tell the truth when you're polite. You've gotta poke them a bit," he chuckled.

She sighed, her newfound disbelief rearing it's ugly head. "I knew some of the soldiers felt like that, but to actually hear it..." She balled the jacket up in her arms and hung her head.

He patted her shoulder gently, his large hand completely enveloping nearly her entire neck as well. "It's hard to be just an idea sometimes. That's all you are to most of them. It's why you could stand right in front of them without being recognized. You've got a good army coming along. Remember that, no matter what comes next."

His words made her feel a little bit better and she handed the clothes back to him. "Thanks, Bull. I needed that."

Her next step was to find Varric and his friend before finding dinner. Blackwall offered to walk the ramparts with her and she agreed to allow him to examine their fortifications as she hunted for where Varric might be. He stopped her just past the tallest tower at the front of Skyhold that soared above the main gates. He leaned casually against one of the paraphets and stared out over the mountain view. It was majestic as the sun began to dip below the peaks. "We'll be able to see Corypheus coming from miles away," he mused.

She turned a raised brow and a smirk in his direction. "On the other hand, that means he can see us from miles away."

"Let him come," Blackwall growled, straightening and pounding a fist into the opposite palm. "I swear I'll take that twisted bastard down, even if I have to die to do it."

It should be her that felt such rage. "You see this as a personal insult, don't you?"

He looked at her with a slight sneer. "If it's not personal for you, maybe it should be. The people flock to your banner, eager to fight for the Herald of Andraste. Their faith is a leash, and your Inquisition has taken hold of it." He paced away from her and his next question made her realize that her crisis of faith must be more noticeable than she had guessed. "Tell me honestly, are you what they say you are? Andraste's chosen?"

"There is so little I remember," she admitted, letting the rest fall on air.

"Does it even matter? Don't you see what you are to them? Without you, they'd be consumed by despair. We all would," he pointed out. "They need you to be Andraste's messenger. It gives them hope. The truth doesn't matter." He shook his head. "Ah, listen to me talk. Your time is valuable, and I've wasted enough of it."

He left her with more guilt that swam around in her head as she continued along the battlements. She found Varric standing with a man on one of the square bits of the wall that circled a corner tower. They were sharing a bottle and talking casually. From the descriptions that Varric had given in his Tale of the Champion story, this could be none other than Hawke himself. He had short, shaggy black hair that fell in no semblance of a style and a thick beard to match. His brown eyes were kind and his armor light and thin to allow free range of movement. Like Cirilla, he carried a pair of angry looking daggers and a few pouches that likely hid vials of poison. As she approached, he smiled up at her even before Varric said a word. "Inquisitor! Meet Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall."

"Though I don't use that title much anymore," he chuckled softly in a gruff Ferelden accent that sounded odd coming from his clearly Marcher features.

As he stood to greet her, Varric continued. "Hawke, the Inquisitor. I figured you might have some friendly advice about Corypheus. You and I did fight him, after all."

Hawke pressed his lips together and moved to lean his elbows on the short paraphet that looked down on Skyhold. "This view reminds me of my home in Kirkwall. I had a balcony that overlooked the whole city. I loved it at first. But after a while, all I could see were the people out there depending on me."

"If I thought like that, I'd never get anything done," Cirilla japed.

Hawke glanced back at her in surprise. "How do you put it out of your head?"

"I go out into the wilderness and find something that wants to kill me. That usually clears my mind," she shrugged.

He chuckled softly. "It always worked for me. And speaking of things that want to kill you..."

She nodded. "Varric said that you fought Corypheus before." That had been news to her.

"Fought and killed," he confirmed, straightening to face her. "The Grey Wardens were holding him, and he somehow used his connection to the Darkspawn to influence them."

"Corypheus got into their heads. Messed with their minds. Turned them against each other," Varric added.

Hawke fidgeted. "If the Wardens have disappeared, they could have fallen under his control again."

"If that's what happened to the Wardens, do you think we can free them?" she wondered.

Hawke shrugged. "It's possible, but we need to know more first. I've got a friend in the Wardens. He was investigating something unrelated for me. His name is Stroud. The last time we spoke, he was worried about corruption in the Warden ranks. Since then, nothing."

Varric snorted. "Corypheus would certainly qualify as corruption in the ranks. Did your friend disappear with them?"

"No," Hawke shook his head. "He told me he'd be hiding in an old smuggler's cave near Crestwood."

"If you didn't know about Corypheus, what were you doing with the Wardens?" Cirilla asked curiously.

Hawke smirked, holding up a finger as if she deserved a prize for asking the right question. "The templars in Kirkwall were using a strange form of lyrium. It was red. I'd hoped the Wardens could tell me more about it."

Cirilla gasped. "Corypheus had templars with him at Haven. They looked like they'd been exposed to red lyrium."

"Hopefully my friend in the Wardens will know more."

"I'll take any lead I can get at the moment," she agreed.

"Good. I'll do what I can to help. Corypheus is my responsibility. I thought I'd killed him before. This time, I'll make sure of it."

Cirilla's stomach was grumbling by the time she left Hawke and Varric, but she needed to pass on the information she had been given. She sought Cullen out and he was posted at a table covered in papers all held down by rocks. He issued orders left and right and was looking as haggard as she felt. When she approached, he sighed. "We set up as best we could at Haven, but could never prepare for an Archdemon..." he rubbed at the back of his neck in exhaustion. "Or whatever it was. With some warning, we might have..."

"Do you ever sleep?" she teased.

"If Corypheus strikes again, we may not be able to withdraw... and I wouldn't want to. We must be ready." He returned his gaze to all of his fluttering papers and continued. "Work on Skyhold is underway, guard rotations established. We should have everything on course within the week. We will not run from here, Inquisitor."

"How many were lost?" she asked. If anyone knew, it was Cullen.

He offered her a reassuring grin over his shoulder. "Most of our people made it to Skyhold. It could have been worse. Morale was low, but has improved greatly since you accepted the role of Inquisitor."

She picked at a splinter in the surface of the table with a nail, sighing. "Everyone has so much faith in my leadership. I hope I'm ready."

He straightened and set a serious yet sympathetic expression on her. "You won't have to carry the Inquisition alone. Although it must feel like it. We needed a leader. You have proven yourself."

"You responded quickly to the attack on Haven. Without that, so many more would have died," she said thankfully. "I'm grateful for any help you can give."

"Thank you, Inquisitor," he said humbly. "I will do everything I can to ensure the security of our people. You have my word."

"You're always so serious," she chuckled. "I do have something for you though. Varric's contact was the Champion. No surprise there. He says he might have a lead on some information about both Corypheus and the Wardens. We'll need Harding to take a trip to Crestwood and get a read on things in the area."

Cullen nodded. "I'll pass the information on to Leliana. You should get some rest. I hear that Josephine has found what she calls 'ideal living quarters for the Inquisitor'."

"Oh?" she gasped jokingly. "I should get promoted more often."

He chuckled lightly. "You can find our ambassador off the main hall. Second door on the left. Her office is directly adjacent to the war room. You'll see why we chose it when you get there."

Cirilla took her leave and began to make the climb up the stairs to the main hall. She was going to have the best toned legs you could ask for if she kept making that climb in one go. Blessedly, she was stopped by Sera halfway up. "So, Inquisitor. It's 'Inquisitor', now, right? Remember that war we talked about stopping? Full of little baddies I can stick with little arrows?" she reached out and shoved Cirilla on one shoulder. "That's not a frigging Archdemon, is it?" The she sighed, her outburst finished. "Andraste, what'd I step in?"

Cirilla mindlessly rubbed at her shoulder. "Let me know what she says. I could use some clarification myself."

"It's swearing, not praying. She doesn't answer. Not like she's supposed to. I know what happened to you, or what everyone here thinks happened. It seems... I don't know what it seems." Sera was frustrated, and Cirilla couldn't blame her.

"I can't help if you don't explain what's wrong exactly," Cirilla said calmly.

Sera's eyes widened in humor as she smiled like it was all a joke. "It's got to be nonsense, doesn't it? We're kind of screwed if it isn't. I mean, that Coryphy-thing... a magister, right? Story is he cracked the 'golden city', but that's a hazy dream. If not, seat of the Maker? Real thing. A seat needs a butt, so the Maker? Real thing. Fairy stories about the start _and end_ of the world? Real things. It's too much. Isn't it? How pretty are you that I actually think this shite is possible?"

Cirilla chuckled, accepting the compliment but not having the energy to return any sort of flirtation. "Keep calling it nonsense. That perspective will keep the Inquisition grounded."

"Oh, I can do that. Sure could use a few more people shouting 'no'," Sera agreed. "We fight, the bad things go away, everyone calms down, and everything goes back to normal. A nice, well-paid normal."

"You're starting to not sound completely crazy," Cirilla teased with a grin.

"I know. Scary, innit?" she gave a terribly executed curtsy and said, "Until next time, my Lady Herald."

Cirilla continued on her quest to find Josephine and was left alone. She passed through the second door on her left like Cullen had described. Through a short hallway to a second door and beyond was a surprisingly cozy office. Two windows on the right wall let light in on either side of an inviting fireplace with comfortable seating in front of it. In the far corner on the right, below the window was a desk angled to view the door. Josephine sat at the desk, scribbling furiously. Cirilla could tell she had worked all day on this single room to get it looking as it did. It brought a smile to her face as Josephine looked up and addressed her with urgency. "Inquisitor! I was just inspecting our new headquarters. Foundation cracks. Nesting animals. And miles from any centers of civilization. The staff _must_ make it presentable if we're to receive any visitors of distinction."

Cirilla pressed her lips together against her smile and nodded in mock agreement. "It certainly wouldn't do for the Inquisition to appear... overly shabby."

"We've only just now convinced everyone we are precisely what Thedas requires. The mages will be gauging the Inquisition's fortitude. They should feel safe here."

Based upon the shifty look that Josie let slip around her well lit space and the tone of her voice while she twirled her quill nervously between her fingertips, Cirilla could guess at what was going on. "Do _you_ not feel safe here?"

"I've had... difficulty forgetting Corypheus' attack on Haven," she admitted, primly setting her quill down. "Do you know who first leapt to arms? Our workers. They were so _proud_ of our cause. Corypheus simply cut them down. So much screaming after that first blast of fire. So many people turned to ash."

Cirilla laid her palms flat on Josie's desk. "I can't permit bad memories to influence the job we must do," she counseled.

"A proper example to set for those still alive," Josie said before clearing the sadness from her voice. "Well, before I return to my duties, allow me to congratulate you on your appointment as Inquisitor, My Lady. I will now bring diplomatic issues to your attention, and I'm more than happy to help with any situations that arise."

Cirilla pushed away from the desk. "I'd be delighted if you could conjure up a marble bath within the next hour."

Josie regarded her with pursed lips. "I'll attempt to add that to the list," she said sarcastically.

"In all seriousness, I came to see where the war room was, and to ask about these living quarters I've heard so much about," she led.

"Oh!" Josie said with a wide smile. "I've had the servants working on your quarters all day. It is the door in the main hall just past this one next to the throne's dais. I think you will love it. The war room is just through there." She pointed with her quill at the door across from her desk.

Cirilla thanked her and decided to glimpse the war room before heading to bed. The door led to a long hallway and at the end stood a pair of floor to ceiling oak doors. Carved into the left door was a normal sized door for everyday use. Cirilla approached, stepping over the pile of rubble that had been swept aside from the large hole in the ceiling just before the doors. It cast some moonlight into the otherwise unlit hallway. She pushed open the door and gasped as soon as she entered. The tall windows along the back wall had been thrown open to let some air into the stuffy room. In the center stood the trunk of a tree that had easily been five feet wide before it had been sawed down. Atop the trunk, a thick slab of wood that had to have come from the same tree was laid on top. It had been unshaped, the uneven edges adding to the beauty of the piece. A map of Thedas had been carved into the slab. She approached the work of art, and pulled the glove from her marked hand to run her fingertips over the dips and ridges of the map. She felt a spark of magic leap out at her touch. The terrain of the map was surprisingly accurate considering that it had likely been carved and placed before Skyhold was even built, the foundations added around the trunk. She guessed that was due to the magic in the wood. Some sort of enchantment carved into it long ago. She could see herself spending a lot of time in this room, which was good because the war councils tended to verge on maddening lengths.

She reluctantly left the room, covering up the mark and passing by Josephine again before making her way to her quarters. Through the indicated door, she followed a set of wooden stairs upwards that spiraled around the walls of the tower to another door. Stone stairs continued the ascent in a straight line beneath large stained glass windows. The top of the stairs was open, no walls blocking the view of the windows from the quarters. To the right of and directly across the room from the landing were the two balconies she had seen from below on their first day. She moved across the wide open space and opened the glass doors to let the fresh, crisp air into the room. Papers stirred on a desk that was nested in the corner between the balconies. There was a couch with an end table pushed against the stair rail. The final side of the room was where the bed had been pushed perpendicular to the wall between two openings without doors that led to closets and a narrow indoor balcony accessible by ladders. "They've certainly spared no expense," she commented, sitting down on the soft bed lined with furs. She could get used to being Inquisitor if it meant she got to live like this. A knock at the door echoed up the hollow stairwell and she called out to admit whoever it was.

Giggling preceded Sera, her flat shoes tapping on the stone stairs as she ran up them. "Inky!" she cried, barreling into the room and flopping down to sit beside Cirilla on the bed. "You looked hungry, and sounded hungry, while we were talking so I raided the 'kitchens' and brought us some snacks before bed."

Cirilla caught hold of the sack that Sera dangled in front of her face and chuckled. "That's so thoughtful, Sera. Thank you."

Sera flapped a hand. "Less thanking more face stuffing."

The girl's energy knew no bounds, but when Cirilla could no longer stifle her yawns, Sera left without protest. Cirilla made sure the door was locked behind her and headed back to the inviting bed. Stripping down, she slipped herself naked between the soft furs and passed out.


	7. The Bull's Chargers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cirilla receives some unfortunate news and takes some time to try and forge an alliance with the Qunari.

She woke the next morning refreshed. She hadn't slept on a real mattress for months. Since her last night in Anselmo's care to be precise. The thought made her realize that she had not seen Beirand since the mages had arrived at Haven. She was suddenly in a panic. It was her job to keep him safe. Had he died in the Inquisition's service when Corypheus attacked? At some point she was going to need to find out. It had to be her that informed Anslemo, or it was to the Void with her. Last she had checked, all of the losses had not been accounted for yet, so she dressed and went down to breakfast.

After she ate, she was tempted to find a way to continue to help with the repairs, but she had also been neglecting her other companions. She wandered Skyhold, trying to figure out where many of them had flocked to. She started off the main hall. The door directly across from hers turned out to be access to a strange basement. Harritt had set up some crafting stations and it looked to be where the smithy was going to take up permanent residence. The entire ceiling and walls were curved so the room looked like a cylinder sliced in half and laid on it's side. The far wall was open air, looking out on the mountains beyond with naught but a knee tall rail guarding you from plummeting to your doom.

She left the Undercroft and followed the wall to the next door which was still blocked off. She tried the last and it led her through a short hall to a cylindrical room. In the middle of the room sat a desk and chair, magical items all strewn across it. There was a bit of scaffolding that stood near a door where she cringed to find Solas with a palette and several paintbrushes. He was interrupted from whatever he was working on when she entered, glancing around to see who was there. She took a moment to glance up, craning her neck to see two more floors above them before he set down his paints and brushed his hands together. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked with little sincerity.

As long as she had his attention, she decided to pick his brain. She may not trust him, but he seemed to know a great deal regarding just about everything. "I need to know more about Corypheus."

His eyes narrowed. "We spoke of this on our travels to Skyhold. What more can I tell you? Cassandra and Varric seem more familiar with our adversary."

She gritted her teeth and trained her tone for appeasement. "You've given me good counsel before. I could use some now." She was tempted to tell him that asking him was her last choice, even after the ravens that cawed overhead in the rafters.

He looked mildly surprised that she didn't do just that and he looked away. "My apologies, Inquisitor. My poor manners shame me. I claim no secret wisdom, but I will guess as best I can."

"I would like to know more about the orb he carries," she started off.

"As I said, that must be the means by which he created the Breach. I suspect the blast that destroyed the Conclave was more accident than anything... the result of unlocking power that had sought release for ages. What I cannot understand is how he managed to survive such an explosion."

"You said that you believed the orb is elven?"

"I never would have believed a Tevinter mage could unlock such a powerful relic," he agreed with a nod. "It clearly enhances his abilities, gives him access to power he should never have known."

"Like the power to control the Archdemon?" she wondered.

"Indirectly, one assumes. Nothing in any lore connects my people to the Old God dragons who became Archdemons."

"What do you think Corypheus will do next?"

"You shamed him when you destroyed Haven. It spoiled his glorious victory. It would be worse to acknowledge that you had done so. He must continue on his course or show weakness. He will return to his plans to throw Orlais into chaos and then conquer it for Tevinter."

"You're sure that's what he'll do?" she asked.

He shrugged languidly. "As certain as is possible, assuming I can plausibly predict a man who seeks to rise to godhood."

"And can you?" she asked mockingly.

He sneered briefly. "The key is understanding this... No real god need prove himself. Anyone who tries is mad or lying. His deception will undo him, as it has done countless fools before."

She sighed and asked her final question. "What can you tell me about the source of Corypheus' power?"

"According to the lore, the ancient magisters of Tevinter received guidance from the Old Gods. Corypheus commands a false Archdemon... a corrupted Old God. This suggests he no longer sees himself as their minion. Some of his unique power comes from the corruption of the Blight. The rest may come from the orb he carries."

"Thank you for your input, Solas," she said with a nod.

"You are welcome, Inquisitor."

She dipped out of the room to a staircase that wrapped up to the next floor. The entire floor was a balcony overlooking Solas' art studio. The walls were lined with alcoves filled with bookshelves. They were in need of a good dusting, but whoever had lived in Skyhold before had quite the library. Crates full of new books were strewn all around, waiting to be sorted and shelved. Cirilla was not surprised in the least to find Dorian hard at work in the nearest alcove, running his fingers along the spines of some books that he had already shelved. He glanced over his shoulder when he heard her approaching and smiled in contentment. Somehow, the stunningly attractive man in the flashy clothes fit perfectly among the dusty books and fantastic lighting that was given off by yet more stained glass that nestled in every alcove around the room. "Brilliant, isn't it? One moment you're trying to restore order in a world gone mad. That should be enough for anyone to handle, yes? Then out of nowhere, an Archdemon appears and kicks you in the head. 'What? You thought this would be easy?' 'No, I was just hoping you wouldn't crush our village like an anthill.' 'Sorry about that! Archdemons like to crush, you know. Can't be helped'. " She was staring blankly at him as he spoke and he paused, moving away from the books to step over a few piles and address her properly. "Am I speaking too quickly for you?"

She cleared her throat and shook her head, glancing away from him. "I was distracted, that's all."

"Distracted?" he said with a devious grin. "By my wit and charm? I have plenty of both."

Regaining her own wits she retorted. "Today, at least."

He laughed in true amusement. "Oh, you wound me," his hand pressed over his heart. After they shared the moment, he took on a serious air and sighed. "I always assumed the 'Elder One' behind the Venatori was a magister, but this... is something else completely." He knelt to unbox some more books. "In Tevinter, they say the Chantry's tales of Magisters starting the Blight are just that... tales. But here we are. One of those very Magisters. A Darkspawn."

She knelt to help him, turning the stack in her hands to read the titles and stepping over to inspect his shelving system. "Who does the Imperium say started the Blight?"

He flapped a hand and slipped a book between two others. "You know how it is. 'Not us'. They say Darkspawn were always there. Magisters and the Blight aren't even related." He glanced over at her as she shelved her first book. "Is that a surprise? No one wants to admit they shit the bed. But if Corypheus is one of the Magisters who entered the Black City and he's Darkspawn... What other explanation is there?"

She glanced at him and frowned, the books he meant to shelve gripped tightly in his hands, his skin turning color from the pressure as he squeezed them. She set her free hand over one of his. "Why does that make you angry?"

She felt his tension ease. "Because the Imperium is my home. I knew what I was taught couldn't be the whole truth, but I assumed there had to be a kernel of it. Somewhere. But no." he sighed heavily, his arms dropping, the books now loose in his grip. "It was us all along. We destroyed the world."

She set her books aside, took his and set them aside, too. "You didn't do anything. Those men did. A thousand years ago."

"True, except that one of them is up and walking around right now. Not to mention I have idiot countrymen who would happily follow him down that path again. No one will thank me, whatever happens. No one will thank you, either. You know that, yes?"

"That's not why I'm doing this."

He smiled weakly. "I knew there was something clever about you." He brushed some of her hair from her face then patted her cheek. "All I know is this. Corypheus needs to be stopped. Men like him ruined my homeland. I won't stand by and let him ruin the world." He turned and picked up the discarded books and went back to shelving. "Oh," he said looking back at her again. "And congratulations on that whole leading-the-Inquisition thing, by the way."

She helped him through a few more boxes before she spotted Cullen heading up to the third floor. Curious about the birds anyhow, she got up from the floor where she and Dorian were sitting and patted his knee. "I'll be back later."

He dismissed her with a smile and a flap of his sparkly hand. By the time she made it up behind Cullen, he had handed off a small ornate scroll to Leliana. It laid in the palm of her hand and she said softly. "I'm sorry."

As he turned from her he whispered. "Me too." Passing Cirilla with a halfhearted smile of greeting, he left the rookery.

Leliana still looked distraught as she stared at the scroll. She glanced up at Cirilla and her blue eyes were sparkling with un-shed tears. "The names of those we lost." She set the cylinder down with a clink on the table. Cirilla slowly picked it up and unraveled it as Leliana continued. "You must blame me for this."

As her eyes scanned the list, she shook her head. "We all saw who attacked us. We know exactly who to blame."

Leliana turned from her. Cirilla's eyes fell on the one name she dreaded the most. Beirand was among the casualties. She rolled the scroll back into it's housing and Leliana sighed. "I keep wondering if I could've done something different. When the first of my lookouts went missing, I pulled the rest back, awaiting more information. If they'd stayed in the field, they could've bought us more time. I was afraid to lose my agents, and instead we lost Haven."

Cirilla knew the value of a good sacrifice, but that was far from worth it. "More likely they would've stayed out there, died, and we would've lost Haven anyway."

"You don't know that," Leliana accused. "Their lives could've bought Haven a small chance. My people know their duty. They know the risks. They understand that the Inquisition may call upon them to give their lives."

Cirilla disagreed. "Our people aren't tools to be used and discarded. Your instincts were right. Their lives matter."

Cirilla could hear the argument in Leliana's voice. "Can we afford such sentimentality? What if Corypheus..."

"We are better than Corypheus!" Cirilla growled.

It felt like Cirilla had spent her entire morning coddling her people. She was almost wishing she had opted for the manual labor. She left the main hall to get some air, the building still a little bit stuffy to remain cooped up in all day. Most of the tents were being cleared out as Skyhold was slowly uncovered from the rubble. One of the outbuildings on the upper courtyard level had been converted into the armory. For no more reason than to explore, Cirilla made her way inside to get a glimpse. Her quiet break was interrupted by a scuffle happening on the second floor. She jogged up the stairs and found Cassandra with Varric pushed up against a stair rail while he wriggled in her grasp. "You knew where Hawke was all along!" she accused.

He pushed her away and she stumbled backwards as he shouted. "You're damned right I did!"

Cassandra recovered and headed for him, her fists balled. "You conniving little shit!"

She swung at him, but he ducked, scurrying out from under her fist and behind her to put a table between them. "You kidnapped me! You interrogated me! What did you expect?" he shouted.

"Hey! Enough!" Cirilla cried out, getting between them on the long side of the table.

"You're taking _his_ side?" Cassandra shrieked.

"I said _enough_!" Cirilla slashed her hand through the air.

The protests ended and Varric moved closer to Cirilla like she could be his human shield if Cassandra came at him again. Cassandra paced like an agitated cat. "We needed someone to lead this Inquisition. First, Leliana and I searched for the Hero of Ferelden, but she had vanished. Then we looked for Hawke, but he was gone, too. We thought it all connected, but no. It was just you. You kept him from us."

"The Inquisition _has_ a leader," Varric cried, holding his hands up to indicate her.

"Hawke would have been at the Conclave! If _anyone_ could have saved Most Holy..." Cassandra argued, losing steam when she couldn't get at Varric to throttle him.

Cirilla softened her own voice. "Varric's not responsible for what happened at the Conclave."

"I was protecting my friend!" he insisted.

"Varric is a liar, Inquisitor. A snake." Cassandra spat accusingly. "Even after the Conclave, when we needed Hawke most, Varric kept him secret."

"He's with us now," Varric pointed out. "We're on the same side!"

"We all know who's side you're on, Varric! It will never be the Inquisition's," Cassandra growled.

"That's unworthy of you," Cirilla said in her same calm and even tone.

Cassandra turned and leaned on the rail in exasperation. "I must not think of what could have been. We have so much at stake." She sighed heavily, her shoulders visibly deflating. "Go, Varric. Just... Go."

Varric looked from the seemingly docile Seeker to Cirilla and shook his head. He turned and headed for the stairs, but before he went down, he stopped and glared. "You know what I think? If Hawke had been at the Temple, he'd be dead, too. You people have done enough to him."

As Varric trumped down the stairs, Cassandra choked. "I... believed him. He spun his story for me and I swallowed it. If I'd just explained what was at stake... If I'd just made him understand..." she paced from the rail and dropped into a chair, her posture slumped forward. She looked defeated. Cirilla moved to crouch before her and listen. It seemed to be what she was there for anymore. "But I didn't, did I? I didn't explain why we needed Hawke. I'm such a fool."

"What if you hadn't believed him, and you'd tracked Hawke down?" Cirilla wondered. Where would that have left her?

"Honestly, Hawke might not even have agreed to become Inquisitor. He supported the mage rebellion, after all. He wouldn't have trusted me for a second. But this isn't about Hawke, or even Varric. Not truly. I should have been more careful. I should have been smarter. I don't deserve to be here."

Cirilla tipped her head and offered a sweet smile. "Have you looked at our Inquisition, Cassandra? We're _all_ fools, here."

Cassandra let out a choked laugh. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

Cirilla shrugged and stood, offering a hand up to Cassandra. "More at home, maybe."

Cassandra breathed deeply and took her offered hand. "I want you to know, I have no regrets. Maybe if we'd found Hawke or the Hero of Ferelden, the Maker wouldn't have needed to send you. But He did. You're... not what I'd pictured. But if I've learned anything, it's that I know less than nothing."

Cirilla patted her shoulder and took her leave, glad that she could diffuse the situation before Cassandra strangled Varric. Outside the armory where a makeshift training ring had gone up overnight, Cirilla stopped in her tracks to watch as Bull and Krem practiced with shields. Actually it was more like Krem spent his time picking himself up off the ground after Bull executed a shield bash. Bull critiqued Krem as they went, and then suddenly spotted her leaning on the fence watching. Mostly she had been watching the impressive mountain of muscles wipe the floor with his lieutenant and then explain to him how it wouldn't have happened if he had been watching. Bull dropped his shield and shooed Krem before sidling up to her with a grin. Looking around, he said to her. "You're doing good work, boss. I like how this Inquisition is coming. Next time you're free, why don't you come grab a drink? I'll introduce you to the Chargers."

She had mostly only ever dealt with Krem, but she had seen the others around. She nodded, realizing her lip was still between her teeth. The more time she spent with Bull, the more she wondered just how fun it might be to have him pick her up and toss her around, and not in a practice fight. She knew he had no qualms with sleeping around. He talked enough about the serving girls he had bedded since arriving. Why not her? "Sure. I don't think I have anything planned for tonight."

"Good. We'll see you then," he said with a wink.

Cirilla found where the Chargers were camping after dark that night. When Bull spotted her approaching, he grinned wide and kicked out a stool for her to sit. "Ah, good, we're not drinking alone." Krem sat down across from her a drink in hand and Bull nudged him. "How you doin', Krem de la Creme?"

Krem rolled his eyes and nodded to her in greeting. "Your Worship, I'm so glad he has someone new to hit with that joke."

She shrugged and took the mug offered to her. "I can think of worse places to go with 'Cremisius'."

"So can the chief, believe me. He loves his nicknames," Krem smirked.

"Hey," Bull said defensively. "When I was growing up, my name was just this series of numbers. We all give each other nicknames under the Qun."

"They ever wear shirts under the Qun, chief? Or do they just run around binding their breasts like that?" Krem teased.

"It's a harness, Krem," Bull grunted.

"Yes, for your pillowy man-bosoms." He chuckled. "Let me know if you need help binding. You could really chisel something out of that overstuffed look."

Cirilla in an instant made the connection that had been puzzling her since Krem had first opened his mouth. He was a she. At least on the outside. Curiosity got the best of Cirilla and she delicately asked her question. "Did you always know?"

"Yes," he said, his tone not even remotely insulted. He was comfortable with himself. "It's not the most fortunate thing to know about yourself, growing up in Tevinter one rung above slavery."

"In Qunadar," Bull explained. "Krem'd be an Aqun-athlok. That's what we call someone born one gender but living like another."

"And Qunari don't treat those... Aqun people any differently than a real man?" Krem wondered.

"They are real men. Just like you are," Bull said simply.

"Hm," Krem said lifting his brows in a shrug. "Maybe your people aren't so bad after all."

Bull chuckled. "Don't get your hopes up, Krem. We still come down hard on the back talk." He turned from Krem and then looked at her. "Anyway, here's the rest of the Chargers... or what's left of the rest. A lot of 'em went looking for stronger drinks." He pointed to each as he listed them and they nodded. "We've got Rocky and Skinner there. And over there is Stitches, Dalish, and Grim. Crazy bunch of assholes, but they're mine."

Over their drinks, Cirilla really took the time to get to know the Chargers. Rocky was a dwarf originally from Orzammar who was exiled for blowing up part of the Shaperate. Skinner was an elf from an alienage who got in trouble for fighting back when the arl's son was testing his new blades on her people. Stitches was their medic, Dalish an elven mage who pretended poorly not to be one, and Grim never said a word.

"Grim doesn't talk much," Bull chuckled. "I'm pretty sure he's the lost king of some small country. Or a chieftain. Something like that."

Cirilla giggled, her vision a bit blurry from all the drinks. "You really take in anyone, don't you?"

Bull shrugged. "Anyone who can carry their weight in a fight."

"And who can put up with your bullshit, Chief," Krem snorted.

Raising their mugs, Rocky started them off on a rowdy song.

_No man can beat the Chargers. 'Cause we'll hit you where it hurts._

_Unless you know a tavern with loose cards and looser skirts._

_For every bloody battlefield, we'll gladly raise a cup._

_No matter what tomorrow holds, our horns be pointing up!_

Bull leaned in close to be heard over the cheering as the song died down. "Thanks for coming by, boss. Glad you could meet some of _my _team."

He got up from his seat and tipped his head for her to follow. He led her away from the noise and she glanced back at his men. He clearly cared for them a great deal in spite of them supposedly being his cover for the Ben-Hassrath. "I'd like to hear more about the Chargers."

"Always happy to talk about my guys," he said with a grin, adjusting his belt. "What do you want to know?"

"How did you start the group?"

"It's easy to make a name for yourself as a merc when you're a head taller than most folks. I spent a year or two working for Fisher's Bleeders, but their captain was crap. Figured I could do better. The best folks in the Bleeders agreed with me, so we split off."

"I imagine Fisher disagreed," she chuckled.

Bull grunted and the sound reached inside of her a plucked a few strings that hadn't been plucked in a long time. In her mildly intoxicated state, it made her shudder. "He came at me. I snapped his sword in half, and we talked things out over drinks."

She swallowed, playing off her shudder as a chill from the night air. "What are the craziest jobs you've ever taken?" She had gotten a few stories out of Krem over the months, but she wasn't ready to go to bed yet.

"Besides this one?" he teased and she bumped herself into him as they walked in retaliation. "There's a lot of violence between the nobles here, but that's standard work. The fun stuff is when they party. They always want to impress each other, and that means getting something shiny. We've hunted wyverns, fought through caves to find some old magical crap, even went giant baiting once."

"What's giant baiting?" she asked with a snort.

He laughed, launching into his story excitedly. "So this old guy, Comte Vanchess, has some kind of a pageant planned, but he needs a giant, which is off in some damn cave. He's got some kind of rare charm to control the giant, but no way he's going into that cave himself. So we go in, kill some spiders, find the giant, and wake it up. It attacks us, because _of course_ it does, and we let the big bastard chase us outside, where Vanchess is waiting."

"That was actually your plan? To let a giant chase you?" she gasped in amusement.

"Yeah. We had to stay out of reach but close enough that it wouldn't give up. It was tricky. Good news is that giants are slow. Long as my guys ahead could clear out the spiders, we were fine. Bad news is that giant spiderwebs slow you down a bit more than you'd think."

"But at least Comte Vanchess got his giant for the pageant," she shrugged.

Bull laughed. "Ah, turned out that charm was a phony. Giant ate the poor guy alive. It's okay, though. We still got paid."

She snorted and suddenly realized that he had escorted her all of the way back to the door to her room. "I really had a good time tonight, Bull. I needed the distraction."

"Anytime, boss," he said with a grin and headed back to the Chargers.

Cirilla spent the next few days writing a letter to Anselmo that apologized and offered sympathy for Beirand's death. She had asked Leliana for the job and her spymaser had agreed, understanding the need for it to come from her. It was the hardest thing she had ever had to put into words. When she finally deemed it satisfactory, she sent it off with Leliana's favorite raven, Baron Plucky.

That day, she spent hours pent up in her quarters, trying to concentrate on the reports that were piling up higher and higher by the day. Everyone needed something from her. She didn't know how Cullen kept himself together doing this day after day, especially after he had revealed the struggle he faced every day with his decision to quit lyrium.

She had run into a disagreement about Cole the day before between Vivienne and Solas after Cassandra had brought up the question of who or what he was. With Cirilla's strange and inexplicable attachment to the boy, she had agreed to continue to allow him to stay. Since then, she had been noticing him far more often, here and there around the keep. Little things that seemed odd kept showing up in her reports and she tossed them aside into the fire, knowing it was Cole 'helping' in some way. In return, little snacks or cups of hot tea would show up on her desk if she looked away for a second, the gestures making her smile.

After her third cup of tea from Cole, she realized that she might just be a little stressed. She set down her quill and pushed away from the desk, abandoning the incomplete pile of parchment. Grabbing her knives, she made her way down, through the main hall, and outside into the sunshine of the afternoon. Diverting toward the training ring outside the armory, she found herself humming to ease her ragged nerves.

Bull and Krem were in the ring again, practicing that same move from the other day. She meant to ignore them and get a few rounds off with a practice dummy to get her body moving. "Ah, come on, Krem! I'm working my ass off trying to get you to see that move!" Bull snarled in frustration.

"You've still got plenty of ass left, chief." Krem said just before he noticed her passing by. "Uh, Your Worship."

Bull spun to lay his eye on her and stopped her with an arm. "Glad you came by. I got a letter from my contacts in the Ben-Hassrath. Already verified it with Red."

"What did the letter say?" she asked curiously, fidgeting with her daggers, twirling and tossing them up and down while she idled.

Bull's eye was studying her as he explained, pretending to be clueless. "The Ben-Hassrath have been reading my reports. They don't like Corypheus or his Venatori. And they _really_ don't like red lyrium. They're ready to work with us. With _you_, boss. The Qunari and the Inquisition, joining forces."

"That could be a powerful alliance," she agreed thoughtfully.

He nodded. "My people have never made a full blown alliance with a foreign power before. This would be a big step." He turned and raised his shield. "They've found a massive red lyrium shipping operation out on the coast."

Krem readied his shield as well, pivoting his body to brace for the impact of Bull's bash. "They want us to hit it together. Talked about bringing in one of their dreadnoughts. Always wanted to see one of those big warships in action."

Bull slammed into Krem's shield and nearly knocked him off his feet again. "Did you see _that?_" he grumbled. "Go get some water." Krem slunk off and Bull returned his attention to her. "They're worried about tipping the smugglers, so no army. My Chargers, you, maybe some backup."

While he had been studying her, she had been returning the favor. She slipped her daggers into their sheathes and crossed her arms. "You don't seem entirely happy about this."

"No, I'm good," he evaded. But when her brows rose, letting him know she had his number, he sighed. "It's, uh... I'm used to them being _over there_. It's been a while."

"I thought Qunari wanted to extend their reach to the whole world," she pointed out.

"Yeah," he said as if he didn't entirely believe himself. "Just didn't think I'd see it." He sighed. "Look, the Qun answers a lot of questions. It's a good life for a lot of people. But it's a big change. And a lot of folks here wouldn't do so well under that kind of life." His eye told her that she was one of those people. "I guess it's not like we're converting. This is just us joining forces against Corypheus. On that front, I think we're good."

She nodded. "I think the Inquisition could use some help from the Qunari."

He smiled. "Good. I'll pass word on to Cullen and Red. We can set up the meeting whenever you're ready."

It felt fantastic to be out of Skyhold in spite of the crummy weather. Rain trickled down in a steady rattling beat on her hood. She had worn leathers to help keep some of the moisture out of her clothes, but there was only so far that would get her. She watched the raindrops weeping down Bull's bare back in tiny patterned rivulets as she followed behind him to where the meeting had been set up. He stopped her not far from where they had first met along the beach, turning and breaking her concentration. "All right, our Qunari contact should be here to meet us."

Out of nowhere, a very serious looking elf stepped into view. "He is. Good to see you again, Hissrad."

"Gatt!" Bull said excitedly, throwing his arms out wide. "Last I heard you were still in Seheron!"

The elf lightened up a little, smiling. "They finally decided I'd calmed down enough to go back out into the world."

Bull turned to her. "Boss, this is Gatt. We worked together in Seheron."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Inquisitor," the elf nodded in greeting. "Hissrad's reports say you're doing good work."

"Bull's name is Hissrad?" she asked, repeating the word and hoping she was pronouncing it correctly.

"Under the Qun, we use titles, not names," Gatt corrected as if she didn't know that.

"My title was 'Hissrad', because I was assigned to secret work. You can translate it as 'Keeper of Illusions', or..."

" 'Liar'," Gatt interrupted. "It means liar."

"Well, you don't have to say it like _that_," Bull grumbled with a frown.

Something about this elf was rubbing her wrong. She supposed it was because Bull had been her one example of Qunari, and he was clearly not like the rest of them. To break the tension, Cirilla smirked and said, "It's so nice to hear friends say good things about me in their secret spy reports."

"He does..." Gatt agreed. "But they aren't really secret, are they?"

"Look, Gatt..." Bull started.

"Relax. Unlike our superiors, I know how it works out here," Gatt assured them. "We're in this together. The Tevinter Imperium is bad enough without the influence of this Venatori cult. If this new form of lyrium helps them seize power in Tevinter, the war with Qunandar could get worse."

Bull nodded grimly. "With this stuff, the Vints could make their slaves into an army of magical freaks. We could lose Seheron... and see a giant Tevinter army come marching back down here."

"The Ben-Hassrath agree. That's why we're here. Our dreadnought is safely out of view, and out of range of any Venatori mages on shore. We'll need to eliminate the Venatori, then signal the dreadnought so it can come in and take out the smuggler ship."

"What do you think, Bull?" Cirilla asked as she watched Bull's expression pinching in concern.

"Don't know," he shrugged. "I've never liked covering a dreadnought run. Too many ways for crap to go wrong. If our scouts underestimate enemy numbers, we're dead. If we can't lock down the Venatori mages, the ship is dead. It's risky."

Gatt set a disapproving glare on Bull. "Riskier than letting red lyrium into Minrathous?"

Bull sneered at Gatt. Cirilla suddenly hated that they were out here. "There might be Venatori mages on the ship as well. If the dreadnought can't handle them..."

Gatt scoffed. "It's unlikely there'll be more than two or three mages on the ship. And they'll be dead by the third shot. On land, though, a half-dozen Venatori attacking the dreadnought from cover could do some serious damage."

Cirilla crossed her arms. "If it's dangerous for the dreadnought close to shore, why not attack when the smugglers reach open water?"

"Any decent smuggling ship can outrun a dreadnought on open water. We need to catch them close to shore."

She sighed, not seeing a way out of this. "Let's go hold up our end of this bargain, then."

Gatt nodded. "My agents suggested two possible locations the Venatori may be camped to guard the shore." He pointed respectively. "There... and there. We'll need to split up and hit both at once."

"I'll come with you, boss. Krem can lead the Chargers. Let me fill him in. Come by when you're ready to move." Bull left her to glare at Gatt. She really didn't like the elf's attitude. She thought about annoying him with questions, but it seemed a waste of her time. The sooner they got this over with, the better. She headed over to Bull and listened to his pep talk. "Once they're down, send up your signal. That'll let the dreadnought know it's safe to come in."

"Understood, chief," Krem agreed.

"Remember, you're gonna want a volley to start, but don't get suckered into fighting at range. They've got mages." Cirilla smiled behind her hand as Bull played the mother hen.

"It's all right," Krem chuckled. "We've got a mage of our own."

"I'm not a mage!" Dalish insisted from the back of the group.

"Get in close and take their enchanter down before he takes over the battlefield," Bull reminded them.

"He'll be dead before he knows it," Skinner said her dagger flashing in her hands.

"Just... pay attention, all right? The Vints want this red lyrium shipment bad."

Cirilla nearly laughed out loud when Krem rolled his eyes and called out Bull on his henning."Yes, I know. Thanks, Mother."

"Qunari don't have mothers, remember?" Bull grunted.

"We'll be fine, chief."

Bull grinned. "All right, Chargers! Horns up!"

"Horns up!" the Chargers echoed and moved off toward their assigned point.

Bull turned to her. "Ready whenever you are, boss."

As they moved up the path to where the Venatori were camped, Gatt slyly began to taunt Bull. "You gave your Chargers the easier target."

Bull answered with a sardonic tone. "You think?"

"Lower and farther from the smuglers' ship? It's much less likely to be heavily defended."

"Suppose we'll do the heavy lifting, then. Just like old times."

Gatt actually laughed, shocking Cirilla. She didn't think he had it in him. They came across the first encampment and between her stealth flanking and Varric and Sera's projectiles, the Venatori didn't stand a chance. While they moved forward, Gatt took an interest in her friends. "You're not Dalish," he said to Sera. "Were you confined to an alienage as a child?"

"Not for bloody long," she answered with disinterest.

"You may be interested to know that Qunandar treats our kind far better than Ferelden or Orlais."

Sera snorted. "Nope. Not interested in how _you _want to treat _me_."

"Perhaps another time then," Gatt bowed out.

Little did he know that trying to appeal to Sera's elf side was the worst way to get closer to her. Three warriors and a powerful Enchanter later, their area was secured. "We're clear, Gatt," Bull announced.

"Right. Signaling the dreadnought." Gatt knelt beside the fire and sprinkled a fine powder into the flames. A small red flash darted into the sky and burst like a flare.

"Chargers already sent theirs up," Bull nudged her with pride. "See 'em down there."

"I knew you gave them the easier job," Gatt chuckled.

Bull turned a cocky grin on him before watching the dreadnought as the massive ship swept into view. "That brings back memories," he mused. Large balls of fire leapt from the dreadnought and landed on the deck of the smuggler ship, exploding it almost instantly. Bull laughed as the ship sank. "Nice one." His amusement was short lived as out of hiding along the shore below the Chargers, more Venatori appeared. Cirilla could make out the robes on at least three mages. "Crap," Bull growled.

"There are quite a few of them," she said nervously.

"Yeah," Bull choked, genuine concern painted all over his face.

"Your men need to hold that position, Bull," Gatt insisted.

"They do that, they're dead," Bull growled, turning on Gatt.

"And if they don't, the Venatori retake it and the dreadnought is dead." Gatt explained as Bull fidgeted in indecision. "You'd be throwing away an alliance between the Inquisition and the Qunari! You'd be declaring yourself Tal-Vashoth!" Bull turned on him again, his expression livid, but Gatt was relentless. "With all you've given the Inquisition, half the Ben-Hassrath think you've betrayed us already! I stood up for you, Hissrad! I told them you would _never _become Tal-Vashoth!"

"They're my men." Bull growled, jabbing a finger at Gatt.

"I know. But you need to do what's right, Hissrad... for this alliance, and for the Qun."

Cirilla was already shaking her head before Bull even turned to her for guidance. "Call the retreat," she said immediately. No alliance was worth the Chargers.

"Don't," Gatt pleaded.

Bull pulled his horn and blew a resounding note and the elf began to pace. "They're falling back," Bull said in relief.

"All these years, Hissrad, and you throw away all that you are. For what? For this? For _them_?" he pointed an accusing finger at her chest as he spat the words in anger.

She had had enough. "His name is Iron Bull," she growled.

"I suppose it is," Gatt sighed, defeated.

He pushed past them and Cirilla watched as the mages prepared a volley for the dreadnought. "No way they'll get out of range. Won't be long now," Bull sighed.

"Bull, when the dreadnought sinks..." she began, but he cut her off.

"Sinks? Qunari dreadnoughts don't sink," he explained just before the explosion rocked the shore. With no hope of survivors, he glanced at her and said, "Come on. Let's get back to my boys."

Back at Skyhold, she met Bull down by the training ring after receiving a snide letter from Gatt. Bull had been reserved and unlike himself as they traveled back from the coast. He greeted her solemnly. "Hey, boss."

Gatt strode up to them and Cirilla crossed her arms as he stood stock still and delivered what he needed to. "Inquisitor, it is my duty to inform you that there will be no alliance between our peoples. Nor will you be receiving anymore Ben-Hassrath reports from your Tal-Vashoth ally."

Bull straightened at the reiteration of his new role and asked, "You under orders to kill me, Gatt?" Cirilla found her fingers hovering dangerously close to her daggers in case the elf responded with a yes.

"No. The Ben-Hassrath have already lost one good man. They'd rather not lose two." With a half bow, he took his leave and Cirilla turned to Bull who had trained his expression to one of complete neutrality.

"So much for that," he said disappointedly.

Always thinking critically, Cirilla said, "The loss of the Ben-Hassrath information will hurt. Can we smoke out some of your old contacts?"

A brief smile of what looked like pride crossed his lips and he said, "They'll pull their people soon enough, but we might be able to identify the agents who replace them." Krem walked up stiffly and Bull turned to him. "You're late."

They both picked up shields and Cirilla backed up so she wasn't in the way. "Sorry, chief. Still sore from fighting off all those Vints. Good to see you, Inquisitor."

Cirilla returned Krem's friendly smile. "That fight against the Venatori was a bit dicey."

Krem shrugged. "We knew that you and the chief had our backs, Your Worship." He grinned conspiratorially. "Chief's even breaking open a cask of Chasind Sack Mead for the Chargers tonight."

"Damn it, Krem, that's the kind of thing you don't have to mention to the Inquisitor."

"Sorry, chief," Krem apologized as Bull launched the footwork that normally knocked Krem on his ass.

Cirilla cringed, but the thud never came. When she looked, Krem and Bull were both grinning in victory. "Ah, forget it. You're doing fine."

A few hours later, Bull summoned her to the battlements in a secluded corner. "You wanted to see me?" she asked in curiosity as he approached her casually.

A few guards were patrolling the area and Cirilla thought nothing of them until Bull spun and punched one in the face. His companion flung a knife and it lodged itself in Bull's shoulder. He grunted in pain and pulled a hand ax from his belt and hurled it at the thrower. One threat down, he stomped toward the one he had punched. "Bull!" she cried, her reaction delayed out of pure shock.

"I got it!" he growled.

As the man got to his feet, he spoke in Qunlat. "Ebost Issala, Tal-Vashoth!"

Bull grabbed hold of the man's shoulders and hurled him off the battlements. "Yeah, yeah, my soul's dust. Yours is scattered all over the ground, though, so..." He grunted again and yanked the knife out of his flesh and threw it angrily to the ground. "Sorry, boss. I thought I might need backup." He shrugged. "Guess I'm not even worth sending professionals for."

"Are you all right?" she asked reaching up to examine the dripping knife wound.

"Fine. Hurt myself worse than this fooling around in bed," he alluded.

"What if they used poison?" she asked, pursing her lips and wishing she had something to staunch the bleeding.

"Oh, they _definitely_ used poison. Saar-qamek, liquid form. If I hadn't been dosing myself with the antidote, I'd be going crazy and puking my guts up right now." At her widened eyes, he reached up and removed her probing fingers from his chest. "As it is, it stings like shit, but that's about it."

"You knew the assassins were coming?"

He shrugged. "Little change in the guard rotation tipped me off."

"Why didn't you tell me ahead of time?" she asked, crossing her arms.

With a teasing voice he said, "You go through years of Ben-Hassrath training to hide facial expressions when I wasn't looking?" She purposefully allowed her annoyance to show. "See? Like that." he chuckled. "If I'd warned you or the guards, the assassins would've been tipped off."

"Are you interested in getting some payback?"

"Against who?" Gatt came to mind as he asked. "The entire Ben-Hassrath? Besides, this wasn't serious. Sending two guys with blades against _me_? That's not a hit. That's a formality. Just making it clear that I'm Tal-Vashoth." he growled angrily. "Tal-Va-fucking-shoth."

"You acted like a Tal-Vashoth for years. That didn't change you. Neither does this," she assured him.

"That was just a role. This is my life, as one of those..." he couldn't bring himself to finish. "I killed hundreds of Tal-Vashoth in Seheron. Bandits, murderers, bastards who turned their back on the Qun. And now I'm one of them."

"Bullshit. You're a good man," she denied.

He shook his head disbelievingly."Without the Qun to live by..."

She jabbed a finger in his chest "Hey!" With each word she poked him again. "You're a good man." Then she flattened her palm over where she had prodded and sighed. "If the Ben-Hassrath don't see that, it's their loss."

"Thanks, boss," he said with a bit of shock. "Anyway, I'll get this cleaned up and let Red know what happened." He took her hand in his and drove his next words home by holding on tightly and pumping her arm, much like she had jabbed at his chest. "Boss? Whatever I miss, whatever I regret... This is where I want to be. Whenever you need an ass kicked, the Iron Bull is with you."


	8. The Girl in Red Crossing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cirilla's relationship with the Iron Bull takes a turn.

Inquisitor was the word on everyone's lips whenever she passed by. While she had been away on the coast, everyone had been busy and they all wanted to show her their results like children with their artwork. Cullen called her to his office in the foremost tower along the battlements to show her that they had discovered where the templars had gone once they left Val Royeaux. They had been lambs to the slaughter, Samson taking over the Order after they had all been corrupted. He was currently hunting down leads to find the main source of red lyrium so they might shut it down and deprive the Order of their supply. Josephine was eager to show off the garden that they had opened up that led to a small chapel and more quarters. A tavern had also been named and opened in her absence. Herald's Rest.

She was starting to feel the anxiety of restlessness again as she left the war room with a stack of reports to bring up to her desk and pour over until she went cross-eyed. It had been so much easier running the Inquisition when she hadn't actually had to handle the paperwork.

She was scanning the topmost parchment in her pile as she mounted her stairs, deftly avoiding the one stone in her path that was set higher than the rest. She had spent her first week tripping over it every time she got up the stairs. It was like the pile of rubble in the hallway to the war room. It had been forgotten about in the urgency to clean up the parts of Skyhold that more than just the four of them saw. A light creaking sound drew her attention and she glanced up with a frown until he saw Bull sitting on the edge of her bed, watching her move with practiced ease through her familiar space.

She set her papers down, ready with a snarky comment when he interrupted before she even had a chance to speak. "So, listen. I've caught the hints. I get what you're saying. You want to ride the Bull." He stood and stalked toward her, making her heart start racing in her chest as his bulk easily overwhelmed her. "Can't say I blame you. But I'm not sure you know what you're asking. Not sure if you're ready for it."

"Oh, I'm ready for it," she groaned. Maker was she ready. She had been fantasizing for weeks.

"See, you say that, but... you _really_ don't know what that means." He was remaining a respectful distance away, driving her mad.

She crossed her arms and executed her trademark move that he had pointed out to her ages ago, twisting her body slightly, dipping her head and smirking up at him. "Are we gonna do this or not?"

He closed the space between them, swiftly grasping both her wrists in one large hand and backing her into the wall roughly, her arms above her head. She gasped as her insides clenched, begging for more. "Last chance," he growled down at her as if in warning, his voice vibrating through her.

She leaned her head in closer to his and whispered in a husky voice. "A little slower and a _lot_ harder."

He pulled back his head for one last look to be certain and then his free arm wrapped around her waist, lifting her off her feet. He spun them around and crossed the room in two quick strides, to toss her inelegantly onto the bed. She didn't have a chance to shift before he grabbed hold of her wrists again and he began, with his free hand, to unbuckle her belt. He yanked it from it's loops with a snap, the leather burning her skin as it dragged across it from around her back. She hissed and writhed, the sensation so very welcome. He wrapped it tightly around her wrists, almost to the point that she needed to bite back a whimper. He lashed it to the headboard and then both of his hands were free to do what he wanted. She was powerless to stop him. With a grunt, he ripped open her tunic with practiced ease, not a single button flying off in the process. He was well practiced. He shifted her upwards for a better angle, his two hands wrapping completely around her entire waist. Then he squeezed. The pressure intensified as he made his way up her sides. He could have fit both of her breasts in one hand, but he chose to use them both. Then he leaned in and took her left in his mouth. He sucked on it hard, that whimper finally escaping her throat as his mouth completely enveloped her. Her nipple throbbed when he drew back, admiring the mark that slowly rose to the surface. He matched it on the other side, her racing heartbeat making the throbbing that much more intense. With his triggers complete, he ran hands up and down her body, before removing her boots and tossing them aside. Her breeches followed, leaving her exposed. He traced both hands up her thighs from her knees then jerked her legs apart. She bucked as her hips nearly popped out of place. His left hand pressed down on her abdomen to impede her from jerking again. His other hand slipped under her rear and his fingers drew upwards, dragging over her entire labia. As they slipped over her clit, her legs instinctively tried to close around his hand, her stomach quivering and her body unleashing a current of moisture. He repeated the movement in reverse, dragging his fingers from front to back. He began a continuous back and forth motion that he intentionally prolonged to frustrating lengths. She tried thrusting her hips, but he held her easily in check, a rumbling laugh from his throat making her moan in indignation.

He toyed with her for so long that she could no longer feel her legs from the quivering of her overly stimulated muscles. That was until he abruptly switched tactics. He removed his hand from her abdomen, no longer fearful of her being able to fight back, and lifted her legs and ass clear off the bed. She cried out in pain as her hips ground back into use. The jarring pain was soon forgotten as he buried his face in her, putting his horns to good use as he draped her useless limbs over them. Each time he moved to lick or suck as her most delicate area, it shifted her hips and the pain tipped into pleasure. His hands reached out to grip her waist, pulling her against his face. His tongue plunged inside and he was awarded for his abruptness by another cascade of moisture. He lapped it up, swallowing, before grazing his teeth across her opening. She gasped as his tongue found that tiny little spot near her back wall and expertly played over it. She wasn't allowed the bliss for long when his hands both reached up and squeezed her tender breasts. She reacted, her body trying to flee from the pain, but still bucking against him to relish every graze of teeth and swipe of tongue. Her arms strained against the tightly wound belt as she ached to grab hold of his head.

He had absolute control over her body. She could do nothing but whimper and plead softly as he pulled away, withdrawing his tongue and touch with him. He dipped out of sight momentarily and when he reappeared, his clothes were gone. He grinned down at her reaction to seeing him stiff and ready to plunge into her. He climbed back onto the bed, draping himself over her, careful not to rest his weight on her much smaller frame. With one hand, he reached up and gripped the head board and with the other, he positioned himself between her breasts and then pulled them together to wrap around himself. As her tender breasts were squeezed together and he began to thrust between them, she cried out against the throbbing of her nipples. Her heels dragged up and down the mattress as she writhed beneath him, her shoulders stiffening as she fought her bonds. She knew no amount of pleading would make him give her what she wanted. It wasn't about want. He would torture and torment her until she ached for him, and she would enjoy every second of it.

Her lower lips were throbbing by the time he pulled back from her breasts, her throat aching from the begging. "Please, Bull, Maker, please...." A single tear dripped from her eye as he shifted downwards and positioned himself just outside. Then he pushed in, the first few thrusts cautionary while he learned just how much she could take. He filled her to the brim and she felt each pump in her belly button as he picked up his pace. She cried out in fulfillment as she finally was wrapped around him. He pumped in and out, again using his artful hands to tease at her erect nipples. She turned her head, grinding her teeth together and wishing she could grab a mouthful of his flesh to sink her teeth into. Over and over her he ground, pressure building like the water blocked by a dam. She felt the crack in the foundation and as if reading her perfectly, he dipped his hand between them and circled his finger around her clit, drawing the pleasure to a head. She bucked and writhed as she spilled around him, her fingers gripping the only thing they could reach which was the head board. He circled over and over while she came, drawing it out until it was simply too much. She whimpered and gasped, her heels digging into the bed so she could push upwards and escape his tickling fingers.

He pulled back his hands, chuckling as she held them up in submission. "I know when enough is enough." He pulled himself out of her, making her writhe again and then shifted so he laid beside her propped on his elbow. His free hand reached up and released her hands with ease. As she slowly dragged her limp limbs down to flop onto the bed beside her, his hand wandered down over her clavicle, his fingers tracing her sternum and then flattened over her abdomen. He had deftly avoided her breasts so as not to cause stimulation as she recovered.

The act had left her absolutely exhausted. Her eye lids were fluttering as he traced slow circles all along her stomach and hips. His touch had been exactly what she needed at every turn and now he was lulling her to sleep. "But you didn't..." she slurred, prying her eyes back open to look on him.

"Shh..." he urged, leaning over to plant a gentle kiss on her head. "That wasn't why I came here. Get some rest. You _need_ it."

When she woke in the morning, he was gone. Her body ached all over, but each tug of her muscles as she moved reminded her of how very right it had felt to have him take her over so thoroughly.

She needed to work out her muscles. He had done a number on her hips. She cleaned herself up, dressed, and then smiled at the muffin sitting on her desk. "Thank you, Cole," she whispered, picking it up. She picked at the sugary crust on the top of the blueberry muffin as she trotted happily down her dozens of stairs. Before she could get to the training ring, she got a message from a servant saying Josephine had information for her. She diverted to Josie's office and found her at her desk, scribbling away as usual. As Josie worked, Cirilla remembered the pile of paperwork that she had abandoned last night. She pulled a bite from her muffin and crossed over to Josie's desk. Josephine smiled at her as she approached and said, "I've made some inquiries into the Imperial Court. The sooner we deal with the threat to the empress, the better. The political situation in the empire is dangerously unstable. It will complicate matters."

Cirilla took the report that Josie handed her with her free hand and looked it over. She knew that Empress Celene was struggling with a civil war between herself and her cousin Duke Gaspard, but she hadn't realized it had gotten quite so out of hand. As she grazed over the report, Cullen joined them from the war room. He spent more time in there than she did. "Everything in the empire complicates matters. It's the Orlesian national pastime," he said with a sneer.

"Turn your nose up at the Grand Game if you like, Commander," Leliana said entering from the main hall. "But we play for the highest stakes, and to the death."

Josephine agreed, explaining to Cullen. "The Court's disapproval can be as great a threat as the Venatori. We must be vigilant, to avert disaster."

Cirilla set the report back on Josie's desk. "Don't worry, Josephine. We'll protect the empress, no matter what."

"I pray you're right," Josie said with a sigh. "If your vision of the future comes to pass... the death of the empress heralds the destruction of everything. Orlais holds Tevinter at bay. All of Thedas could be lost if the empire falls to Corypheus. Celene is holding peace talks under the auspices of a Grand Masquerade. Every power in Orlais will be there. It's the perfect place for an assassin to hide."

Excitement shuddered through Cirilla. The chance to attend one of the Empress' masquerades was what every bard aspired to. "We need to attend this ball," she said, trying not to sound too excited.

"I'll arrange for an invitation at your discretion, Inquisitor." Josephine made a note on her clipboard.

Cirilla finished her muffin on the way down to the training ring. At the early hour, there was no one else around, so she drew her daggers and started in on one of the dummies. Soon her heart was racing and sweat was pouring off of her. She danced around the still target and used her own body to create dynamism. She rolled, dodged and practiced throwing her knives as she moved. To keep her breathing even, she began to sing, the melody and words training her lungs to synchronize with her actions. She took on a razor focus, oblivious to the world around her. She unleashed a knife and twirled, ready to pull her daggers back out when she stepped right into someone's arms. She stopped, breathing heavily and looked up, craning her neck to meet his eye. He beamed down at her, his hands holding her in place. "You're up early. Sleep well?"

She shuddered as his hands dragged down her arms. "Better than I have in months," she admitted, forcing her breathing even. "I feel wonderful."

"Good. So, would you like a moving target?" he offered, picking up a shield from the edge of the ring.

She bit her lip, wishing she could stay. "I shouldn't even be here now. I have so much paperwork to finish before we head out to Crestwood tomorrow. I just needed to loosen my muscles before I spend all day stuck in a chair."

"Sure thing, boss." he grinned, discarding the shield. "I'll be here if you need me."

Back up in her room, she attempted to concentrate on her reports, but her mind kept wandering to Bull and the marvelous things he had done to her. She jerked, knocking some of her finished work to the ground when her door clicked open. She heard Sera's fleet feet climbing the stairs and got up to bend and pick up the mess.

"Hey you, I have an 'Inquisitor favor' to ask," she said without preamble as she flopped down on Cirilla's couch, and threw her legs up over the arm to dangle freely. "Just a little thing, really. A little march around for some of your people. It's nothing for you, right?"

"All right," she agreed, trusting Sera. She stacked her papers and set them back on the desk before gingerly retaking her seat. "Let's hear what you've got."

Sera giggled. "Jump right in, huh? I like that. It's a Red Jenny thing. I got a tip that some noble stiffs are arguing over Verchiel. Land squabble." she flapped her hands dismissively. "They're getting little people beat up, so I need you to go to your big table and send some people to walk through town."

"Just walk through?" Cirilla asked skeptically with a risen brow.

"Just walk through. Easy, right?" Sera grinned.

"Was this a tip from one of your 'friends'?" Cirilla asked as she went back to reading through a few reports, multitasking as she listened.

"Not a Jenny. Just normal angry people getting sick of being in the middle." She sat up and her voice raised. "I don't usually hear about things this far away, but having a friend like you is like getting real big ears." Cirilla glanced up with a smirk. "Bigger ears, I guess, shut up."

"Who's asking for this?"

Sera shifted, pulling her legs up under her so her knees were up in the air. "I'm asking, because I heard people complaining. See, when nobles fight, it's not them. It's their little people stuck in the middle. It's like a polite war, so no one pays attention. But if you march through, the people up top feel threatened, too. Stuff like this is always happening. Good sovereigns to be made if you're one of the few who notice."

Cirilla shrugged. "All right, Sera. I'll have someone look into it."

"It's fun, right? Being important without doing a thing? Well, not much of a thing. Not everything has to be torn skies and ancient arseholes. Every little thing makes a difference somewhere," Sera grinned. "So you've been up here all day. Let's go raid the kitchens."

Cirilla glanced at the much smaller pile of work and grinned. "Yes, please." She hadn't eaten since her muffin.

After she and Sera grabbed food, they went back to Sera's room in the tavern. In the short period of time they had been back, Sera had made quite the collection of knickknacks and odds and ends. The room was tiny, but Sera looked comfortable as she plopped on the fluffy cushions of the window seat that lined the entire back wall. One of the windows was thrown open to admit light and air, and give them roof access. A curio cabinet was jammed in the other corner, the door coming dangerously close to hitting it whenever it was opened. The floor was covered in a thick pile of throw rugs in all different sizes and colors, the pillows on the sofa similarly mismatched. Her long blue curtains were tied up in knots, making them useless for blocking any sun. Cirilla wondered where she had gotten all of this stuff around Skyhold. While they chatted, Cirilla picked up the lute that was leaning by her legs between the couch and the short coffee table that sat on the pile of rugs, wobbling on the uneven surface.

She strummed the strings and found it horribly out of tune. Without thought, her fingers adjusted the knobs as she and Sera talked and joked. Finally, she started to play a tune that blended into the background while they fiddled away the evening. The tavern began to fill up af the sun went down, and Cirilla took her leave. She was resigned to head back to her room when she noticed Bull drinking with a few of the Chargers. She slipped down the stairs and circled around so she was standing behind him. Using her skills to not be noticed, she leaned in and whispered in his ear. "I'd like to talk... in private."

He stiffened at being snuck up on, but immediately relaxed, a smile breaking out over his face. He excused himself and followed her up to her room where she circled him casually. "What's going on, boss?"

"We need to talk about what happened between us," she alluded.

He tipped his head as she gave him nothing to go on. She knew he hated it when he couldn't read a situation. "Oh, that. Sure. What's on your mind?"

She chuckled. "_You_ are. And I'd like you on the rest of me, too." She stalked up beside him, walking her fingers up his chest.

His wary expression faded to be replaced by a smirk. "I thought I read you right. Ben-Hassrath training, remember? Grew up learning to manipulate people." He pulled away and moved to sit on her couch, his tone teasing. "When it's a hostile target, you give them what they want. But when it's someone you care about, you give them what they _need_."

"Oh, I have a need," she smirked, following him to place her palms on his shoulders and push her legs between his knees.

"And I can meet that need," he agreed, his hands coming up to rest on her hips. "But first, ground rules, just so everyone's clear." She tipped her head to listen. This conversation was important. "I will never hurt you without your permission. You will always be safe. If you're ever uncomfortable, if you ever want me to stop, you say 'katoh', and it's over. No questions asked."

"That sounds reasonable," she agreed, repeating the word for him, so she made certain she got it right.

"You don't need to be afraid..." he assured her, his hands massaging her hips. "... unless you want to."

"Take me," she demanded leaning in to use her hands on his shoulders to push him back against the couch.

"Can do," he obliged, his hands tightening on her hips. She felt him begin to lift her and she helped him along, hopping into his lap so she was straddling his hips.

There had not been much along the lines of intimacy the night before because it had been about him discovering exactly what it was that she needed and relieving months worth of pent up tension. Now that she had been satisfied nearly to the point of breaking, they could slow down. Her arms wrapped more tightly around his neck and she leaned in, testing the waters. What could drive him wild? He hugged her to him, his large hand coming up and his fingers slipping into her hair. Then he closed his fist, her hair tangled up inside, and roughly jerked her head to the side so he could have access to her neck. Her hips reacted as he nipped at her flesh, his breath warm against the chill in the air from the open balcony doors. She returned the favor, dragging teeth along his skin. The hand not wrapped in her hair slipped up under her tunic, flattening against her back and then massaging deep into her muscles. She ran her hands down his neck and down over his chest. He released her from his grasp and took her hands in his, pulling her gloves off finger by finger so he could take her marked hand and press it to his face. "You shouldn't cover that up, you know," he rumbled before turning his lips into her palm and tickling them over the glowing mark.

"Why?" she asked breathily, her hips moving of their own volition.

He reached up with is free hand and traced over the scars over her eye and mouth, dragging his finger down her lip. She grazed it with her teeth as it passed and he explained. "Because like your scars, it is a part of you. You shouldn't be ashamed of it."

He pulled her lips to his. He tasted of whatever ridiculous number proof liquor he had been drinking before she had dragged him away. She took hold of his bottom lip in her teeth and pulled it away from his mouth as she giggled. "I'm going to get a contact drunk."

"That might make taking advantage of you too easy," he chuckled, undoing the laces on her breeches with ease.

"Or more fun," she suggested with a shrug and dove back in, plunging her tongue in to mingle with his. He pulled off her tunic, and as soon as her breasts were free, she grabbed hold of his horns and hoisted herself up to park them in his face. With a throaty chuckle, he took them one at a time in his mouth and drew her nipples hard. Pressing herself against his chest, she breathed, "I want to remember tomorrow that your mouth was all over me. When I strap on my armor, I want it to chafe." Her request left her throat with a tiny moan as he obliged her, again sucking on her breasts and then biting down hard with his teeth.

He left his mark everywhere he went, bruises and teeth marks showing up all along her delicate flesh. She only stood up from his lap for a moment to let her loose breeches fall before stepping out of them and hopping back up. He was more than ready, shifting beneath her to expose himself in the sitting position. It was enough. Using the same method she had used to offer him her breasts, she lifted herself up by his horns and then lowered herself onto him. She gasped as her weight thrust him deeper than he had gone on his own the night before. "Careful," he warned. She shook her head, wrapping her arms around his neck and then rolling her hips forward. The shift in angle dragged him over her cervix and she choked down a cry as he hissed. He began to mutter in Qunlat, which she had been listening to for months. He had even taught her a few phrases. She thought she caught the word 'dangerous'. She repeated the movement and he grabbed hold of her hair again and buried his face in her neck, still mumbling. She had found his pleasure. She victoriously continued to thrust her hips against him, ache and pleasure building in her loins. She felt herself coming undone and soft moans of pleasure slipped from her lips, increasing in volume as she quickened her pace. Finally, she spilled over the edge, her knees tightening around his hips and as she rode out the pleasure, he lifted her off of him, the extra sensation drawing a ragged cry from her throat as he held her against him. His erection pulsing against her stomach, she felt him reach his own orgasm, spilling warmth between them. "Damn, boss! You just flipped that shit on me."

She drew back to look him in the eye. "It doesn't always have to be about one or the other. We can _both_ enjoy ourselves from time to time," she reminded him.

"I know, I know," he agreed, his hand still in her hair, massaging her skull. "Trust me... What I did to you last night, I enjoyed that immensely, but you..." he grunted appreciatively then pulled her lips to his. "You made me lose control. That _never_ happens."

She snuggled against his chest, tracing her fingertips around his dark blocky tattoos. She only took the moment before sighing and glancing back at her laden desk. "We are leaving in the morning and I've been a terrible leader."

He grunted and picked her up bodily to set her on her feet. Making sure she wasn't going to topple, he moved to her desk and started leafing through the reports. "Some of these are readers, others need to be signed off on... What's this pile?"

She padded over to join him and see what he was looking at. "Oh that's the finished pile."

He cocked a brow at her. "Seriously? No wonder Cullen never leaves the war room."

"What?" she asked defensively.

He flipped through the pile, shoving aside the unfinished mess and making three separate piles. "One for Cullen, one for Red, and one for Josephine. This way, they know ahead of time which missions they should handle instead of having to sort out your written orders. It'll save you all time. Then if you're feeling extra generous, you can prioritize by urgency... set the 'complete immediately' at the top. Seriously, who taught you how to file?"

She giggled as he took over her desk, swiftly organizing her sloppy work with a focused seriousness stark naked. "I think I like having a big naked Qunari for a secretary."

He glanced at her with a smirk. "Shoddy work like this would have gotten you the switch in Par Vollen."

"Oh, really?" she asked, padding over toward the desk and reaching out with the intention of shuffling his new piles.

His hand was wrapped around her arm in an instant, holding her tightly. "I don't think so." He yanked her off balance, carefully slipping her between himself and the desk and plunking her in his lap. "We are going to do this right so you know how to do it yourself. Once you can, then we will have more time for... other things."

With his arms around her while he worked, he showed her how much easier his method made things. Once he had sorted out her already finished pile, he swiftly separated the things she needed to sign off on from the reports she needed to read. She took up her quill, carefully reading over the mission objectives from each of her advisers, as well as notes from companions on things that might help the Inquisition. She was starting to be able to tell everyone's handwriting one from the other. She also always knew when she had something from Sera because hers were illustrated. While she signed her name over and over, Bull sat behind her, narrating the reports. It was surprisingly easy to multitask while he read to her, his lips occasionally brushing her ear or neck and his free hand fiddling with her hair. She was even humming to herself again, each layer of distraction helping instead of hindering her.

When she was finally able to lay her quill down in it's well and carefully stack the last report in the correct pile, he ran the hand in her hair down her spine and then around her waist. "See... That wasn't so hard, was it?"

She chuckled. "That depends on how you look at it. I don't know if you heard, but that was three bells a few minutes ago. I have to be up in three hours for a meeting of the war council before we leave."

He stood and swept her up in one move, "Then let's get you to bed."

She yawned as he carried her to the bed and deposited her. "What if I over sleep?"

"You won't," he assured her, pulling back the furs to slip himself in beside her. "Ben-Hassrath, remember?"

She looked at him in shock. "You're staying?"

He chuckled. "You're surprised?"

She shrugged, stretching languidly across the furs before huddling up against his side. "I just wasn't expecting it after last night."

"I left because there was no established etiquette. It was our trial run, to get a feel for each other's likes and dislikes. To see if we fit... We did," he explained, his arm wrapping around her body.

Cullen looked from the pile of nicely sorted papers she had handed him to either side of him at Leliana's and Josephine's similar piles. Then he looked up at her as she stood across the war table from him, her arms crossed, and then back down at the papers. "Impostor," he accused with a chuckle.

Leliana giggled as she flipped through her papers and began to easily set out her little raven figures across the war table map according to where Cirilla chose to send her scouts. "It's no impostor, Commander. I believe the Inquisitor has been taking pointers from the Iron Bull." When he was still Ben-Hassrath, he and Leliana had shared reports all of the time, so she was bound to recognize his style.

Cirilla shrugged, the motion dragging her clothing over her tender nipples and making her wince just a little. She smirked. "Guilty as charged."

"Thank Andraste for small miracles," Cullen commented almost under his breath before he too started to distribute his fist shaped pieces.

Josephine was beside herself with excitement. "Now not only is Cirilla well versed in the Game, but she is efficient as well. Remind me to get a bottle of Butterbile 7:84 for our resident Qunari."

"Add it to your list," Cirilla said, sticking her tongue out at Josie playfully.

"Right underneath your marble bath," Josie teased back.

"I expect _that_ when I get back from Crestwood." She started to back out of the war room and said with a pout. "What are the chances it's raining there?"

Cullen snorted. "It's just south of the coast. I'd say anywhere from high to certain."

"Wonderful," she said with a roll of her eyes before heading for the stables.

"This is Cullen's fault," Cirilla growled, brushing her dripping hair from her eyes as they approached the forward camp where Harding awaited them with her report.

"You can't blame Curly," Varric chuckled. "As much as he might think he can if he tries hard enough, he can't control the weather."

"Good to see you safe, Inquisitor!" Harding said as she approached Cirilla's sodden group. "We've got trouble ahead."

Cirilla smiled at the snarky dwarf and said, "If you're on edge, I should alert the entire Inquisition."

"Or increase my hazard pay. That's an option," Harding shrugged with a grin.

Cirilla chuckled. "Are things that bad?" Harding tipped her head and moved toward the edge of camp to show Cirilla the tendrils of green smoke that were hovering over the lake, signaling a large rift beneath the surface. Cirilla's shoulders slumped. "Oh."

"Crestwood was the site of a flood ten years ago during the Blight," Harding explained. "It's not the only rift in the area, but after it appeared, corpses started walking out of the lake. You'll have to fight through them to get to the cave where Ser Hawke's Grey Warden friend is hiding."

Cirilla sighed, water pouring from her hair as she lowered her head. "More walking corpses. At least they won't be a surprise."

"I nearly stepped on one in the grass the other night, before it started moaning," Harding said with a shudder. "Maybe someone in Crestwood can tell you how to get to the rift in the lake. Maker knows they'll want help. Good luck, and please be safe." Harding patted Cirilla's elbow and moved off to handle more business.

Cirilla rolled her shoulders, the sensitivity of her body from Bull's ministrations having worn off since they had traveled from Skyhold. She offered him a private grin before leading them all off toward the gates to Crestwood. As they passed by the road that now served as the shoreline into the lake, Cirilla looked out over the rippling waters and sighed. "There must be a way to get to the rift in the lake."

"Maybe the locals will lend us a boat," Varric suggested, his tone plaintive as it usually got when he was uncomfortable.

Over the Eastside Hills, they came along a road marker and between the short stone walls that ran alongside the edges was a trio of walking corpses assaulting a young elven woman and a pair of Grey Wardens. Cirilla darted ahead to lend a hand and one of the Wardens recognized her. "It's the Inquisitor!"

She grimaced as the second Warden exclaimed, "Then Andraste is with us!"

They took down the corpses and the Wardens pointed the woman back to the village before Cirilla approached them. "The Grey Wardens thank you for your aid, Inquisitor."

"What are you doing in Crestwood?" she asked suspiciously as she slipped her daggers away.

"A Warden named Stroud is wanted for questioning. We heard he'd passed through here, but the villagers knew nothing. They have troubles enough."

"What have you been told about this rogue Warden?" Cirilla aked, still trying to figure out if these Wardens were affected by Corypheus of just following orders.

"Warden Commander Clarel ordered his capture. I can say no more than that," he said loyally before sighing. "I hope Ser Stroud comes with us peacefully. I trained under him for a time. He's a good man, I'm sure of that."

"Will you stay and fight the undead here?" she asked hoping it might keep them off Stroud's trail if they had something else to focus on.

He looked upset before answering. "My orders forbid it. Crestwood was only a detour. If the Inquisition can help, I beg you to do what you can. The villagers have already lost too many."

Cirilla pressed her lips together. "Farewell," she said with her best disappointed smile and walked slowly toward the village, listening to the pair as they headed in the opposite direction.

"Ser, are you sure we can't help the village?"

"Our orders are clear. If we can't find Warden Stroud, we return to the Commander with all haste."

"Still don't feel right."

"I know, but if I judge our orders rightly, harder decisions await."

Cirilla paused as the voices faded. "None of those Wardens mentioned a new leader. I don't think they're part of Corypheus' plot to seize the Order."

"Right. Because they would have said?" Sera scoffed.

Cirilla sighed and started for the village again. "I hope Hawke's Warden friend has answers for us."

To get to Hawke's friend, they had to speak with a cagey Mayor Dedrick who pointed them to a supposedly broken dam control. To get to the broken dam controls, they needed to fight through bandits who had taken the keep that stood in the way of the path to the former tavern where they were housed. Cirilla saw the benefits of the Keep that they chased the bandits from and immediately sent word to Leliana to have people come and secure the place for the Inquisition.

It was getting dark, and Cirilla was soggy. She decided they would spend the night in the keep and go to the dam controls in the morning. When Varric and Sera went out into the hills to find some food to throw on the fire, Cirilla was exploring the Keep. Between them and the abandoned tavern, there was a large storage room filled with empty crates and barrels. "You look tired, boss."

His voice stirred the butterflies in her stomach and set her heart racing. It was laced with promise. She turned into him and he backed her into the shelves stacked with barrels. She gasped heavily as his lips found her neck. "We don't have much time before the others get back."

"Then I'll make it quick," he agreed as she thrust her hips against him. He roughly groped at her hips, pushing her away, her back colliding with the shelf again. Before she could react, he had her belt out of it's loops and it snapped against her leg as he whipped it across the room. He yanked her out of her pants and his mouth dove for her neck again. The hand he had used to take her belt shifted down between her legs and he lifted her with a tight grip, wrapping her leg around his hip and grinding against her sex. She bit her lip against the cry that threatened to slip from her mouth. Within seconds, he had opened his own breeches and shoved his way inside. Her body resisted his bulk for the first few thrusts from such little foreplay. She gasped, her other leg coming off the floor to spread her out further and wrap around his body. Each drag in and out, she felt the friction and pressure of his dry entrance. She threw her head back, as he pounded harder and harder, drawing out her natural lubricant. He grabbed hold of her hair and pulled her head back further, nipping and sucking at her neck. Each little ache and pain coming from him brought her closer to the brink, her back slamming into the hard shelf over and over until she knew there would be a bruise. It was over quickly, as he had promised, her spilling over the edge of ecstasy. She fell forward against him, her orgasm making her shudder as he ran a hand along her side, setting her very flesh on edge. When her muscles relaxed, he grinned down at her, leaning in to lay one last kiss on her neck and grunted as he slipped free of her and set her on her feet. "Better?"

He moved away from her and she leaned against the shelves, brushing her hair from her face and chuckling. "Those times you talked about 'passing time' with the serving girls... Is this what you do to them?"

He laughed as he moved away from her and picked up her belt, folding it in half, one end in each hand. "The serving girls spend most of their day following orders and feeling unimportant. They need someone who makes them feel special, let's 'em cut loose with no repercussions." With a grin, he snapped the flat edges of the leather together, making a cracking sound like a whip before stalking back to her and gently wrapping the belt around her waist again. "I let 'em bounce on top and tell 'em their tits look nice. Everybody wins." he paused. "I mean, I used to. Long as we're doing this, you've got my complete attention."

She cocked her head as he stroked a finger over the scar on her upper lip. "You told me that this is what I needed. What did you mean by that?"

He grunted. "You're the Inquisitor. You didn't ask for the job, but you've taken on the responsibility. You've got thousands of lives riding on your decisions. You bear that weight all day. You need a place where you can be safe, knowing someone else is in charge for a bit."

Now that he said it, he was right. "I think that's exactly what I need," she agreed.

He chuckled. "Good. Figured you'd've kicked me out if you disagreed."

She tipped her head, realizing that he had once again given her a mind numbing orgasm, but he had denied himself. "What about what _you_ need?"

He reached up and tucked more hair behind her ear. "Hey, I'm good. I am _better_ than good. You, uh," he chuckled and nuzzled her neck to say the rest in her ear. "don't trouble yourself on that front. Ol' Iron Bull is just fine."

She nipped at his ear before playfully pushing him away. "Put yourself away before the others get back." With a better understanding of how he felt, _she_ felt better about taking so much.

The dam controls in the tavern were not as broken as the mayor had let on. Cirilla eyed the mechanism with her lips pressed together before pointing it out. "The mayor said these controls were destroyed ten years ago. Who repaired them?"

"Right," Sera agreed. "Something smells besides fish and... fish."

Cirilla sighed and moved to push the large wheel around to open the dam and allow the flood waters back into the valley where they belonged. The mechanism clanged noisily and then as the water began to drain from the lake, a great rumbling shook the entire structure. While the lake was draining, another loud noise joined the cacophony. Cirilla rushed outside to see what had made such a fuss and in the sky, there was a high dragon flying overhead, looking mildly confused about why water was flooding where it had made it's home. As it flew over them, Varric sighed. "Let's try not to get eaten, shall we?"

Cirilla felt a certain thrill over seeing the powerful beast flying effortlessly across the cloudy sky. She watched it easily cross back overhead and fly off to the east before she dragged her companions to the west where Old Crestwood stood. Beneath the flooded village, old cave systems led to ancient dwarven ruins whose runes still lit the place. In the caves, Cirilla discovered the bones of people who had been living down there when the flood hit. She cringed as Bull grunted. "Bad way to go."

When they finally found the rift, it was massive, earning them four waves of demons before she was able to get a hold on the edges and stitch them together with the mark. When they returned to the surface, Cirilla was exhausted and it had blessedly stopped raining. They emerged on the opposite side of New Crestwood and she headed for the mayor to tell him that there should be no more undead attacking the village. Instead of the suspicious man, she found an empty house and a note. "A letter of confession from the mayor? It says_ he_ was the one who flooded Old Crestwood ten years ago. To stop the Blight from spreading." She gritted her teeth together as the images of the skeletons in the caves crept across her vision. She crumbled the paper in her fist and threw it back onto the desk.

"I knew he was nervous about more than the undead," Varric spat, picking up the paper and smoothing it out again to keep as evidence.

"He drowned them... in the muck?" Sera grunted, her voice wavering in anger. "Oh, 'mayor' is having an arrow for tea."

"Cullen needs to hear about this. He can send people to track Deidrick down," Cirilla growled.

"It's late. Let's head back to the Keep and get some rest. We can find that cave in the morning," Bull suggested with a knowing glance at her.

She nodded. "Bull's right. I'm sure we're all a bit tired after that rift."

The next morning, they made their way to the cave that Harding had pointed out to them on the map, getting waylaid by some Red Templars that were camped outside an old veridium mine on the way. Hawke was waiting outside the cave when they got there, leaning casually against the mouth. Upon seeing them, he smiled lightly. "Glad you made it. I just got here myself. My contact with the Wardens is at the back of the cave."

"A group of Wardens were protecting a villager from corpses out near Crestwood," Cirilla pointed out.

Hawke sighed. "They were likely hunting my friend. I'm glad they didn't come looking for people to help in here. They might well be good men, but they've been given bad orders." He motioned her into the cave, Varric taking a place at Hawke's side, like he had been born there.

When she made it past the man-made door blocking the smuggler's den from the elements, the room was seemingly empty in spite of the burning torches all around. Then she heard the obvious scrape of a blade as it left it's scabbard. She turned to see the blade directly in her face. Hawke made it into the room before Bull and it was a good thing because from the flash that she saw pass over his features, their Warden ally was likely to be in two pieces for threatening her. "It's just us!" Hawke warned. "I brought the Inquisitor."

As his sword lowered, Cirilla was able to take a better look at the man before her. He wore the same blue and silver heavy armor as most warden warriors. His hair was cut close to his scalp in a ring around his crown, the top only about an inch long. His horseshoe mustache was impressive in thickness and she found it difficult to focus on his other features as he greeted her. "My name is Stroud, and I am at your service, Inquisitor."

Cutting straight to business with everything Hawke had warned her about, she crossed her arms. "Most of you Wardens disappear. Then I run into a Darkspawn magister named Corypheus. Do you think one might have something to do with the other?"

Stroud hung his head. "I fear it is so. When my friend Hawke slew Corypheus, Weisshaupt was happy to put the matter to rest. But an Archdemon can survive wounds that seem fatal, and I feared Corypheus might possess the same power. My investigation uncovered clues but no proof. Then, not long after, every Warden in Orlais began to hear the Calling."

"Maker, why didn't you tell me?" Hawke gasped, his eyes widening.

Stroud looked to him with remorse. "It was a Grey Warden matter. I was bound by an oath of secrecy."

Cirilla held up a hand to intervene. "You think Corypheus is using this 'Calling' to control the Grey Wardens?"

"Not precisely, Your Worship. The Calling warns a Grey Warden that his time in this world grows short," Stroud explained.

"And every Grey Warden in Orlais is hearing that right now? They think they're dying?" Hawke surmised.

"Yes," Stroud agreed. "Likely because of Corypheus. If the Wardens fall, who will stand against the next Blight? It is our greatest fear."

Hawke sneered. "So Corypheus isn't controlling them. He's bluffing them with this Calling, and they're falling for it."

"Is the Calling they're hearing real, or is Corypheus mimicking it somehow?" Cirilla wondered curiously.

Stroud shook his head. "I know not. Even as a senior Warden, I had heard only the vaguest whispers of Coryheus. The Wardens believe the Calling is real, and they will act accordingly. That is all we know for certain."

Cirilla rubbed her chin as she mused to herself. "How can Corypheus make all these Wardens hear the Calling?"

"I cannot say," Stroud said again. "We know little about him, save that he is dangerous. He is a magister as well as a Darkspawn... and speaks with the voice of the Blight. That lets him affect the minds of Wardens, since we are tied to the Blight ourselves. It must be how he created the false Calling."

"So the Wardens are making some last, desperate attack on the Darkspawn?" Cirilla grumbled.

"We are the only ones who can slay Archdemons. Without us, the next Blight will consume the world. Warden Commander Clarel spoke of a blood magic ritual to prevent future Blights before we all perished. When I protested the plan as madness, my own comrades turned on me. Grey Wardens are gathering here, in the Western Approach." He shuffled some papers on his table and handed a map to Cirilla. "It is an ancient Tevinter ritual tower. Meet me there, and we will find answers."

Cirilla accepted the map and nodded her thanks before taking her leave. There were still rifts reported in the Crestwood area that needed closing before she could head back to Skyhold.

Cirilla stood on the crest of the Black Fens, staring down at the dragon that had flown over their heads the day before. With it's lair underwater, it had taken up residence on top of an old broken down Keep too close to civilization for Cirilla's tastes. "We can't just leave that thing. You can probably see if from Caer Bronach." she mumbled.

Sera was all titters beside her, Varric stared at her with his mouth agape, and Bull was grinning widely. "So we get to kill it?!" He asked excitedly.

"I don't think we have a choice," Cirilla conceded.

"Boss, you are the best!" Bull shouted, already halfway down the hill toward the Fens.

Cirilla followed on his heels, her heart racing with both terror and excitement. "Once we get it's attention, everyone pick a leg and have at it. Bull and I are on the front and Sera and Varric, you take the rear. Watch out for it's tail. Stay out of range and don't let it bat you around."

As soon as they were close, Bull let out a battle cry that drew the dragon's attention straight to them. "She sees us!" Cirilla warned as the dragon took flight and began to circle them.

They spread out, Bull continuing to make a great deal of noise to draw her down on him. Cirilla felt the wind nearly drag her off her feet as the dragon flapped her wings as she hovered before dropping to the ground in the middle of the four of them. The thrill made her heart jump out of her chest and a lump formed in her throat as she realized that she had just picked a fight with a high dragon. Bull and Sera dove in with abandon, both making a ton of noise so she and Varric could slip in a bit more quietly and start in on their side. Cirilla drew the shadows around herself and darted under the dragon as it lifted it's head. A loud gurgling sounded in it's throat and her heart skipped a beat as it lowered it's head and a stream of white hot lightning left it's mouth to hit the ground beside Bull. When he realized he was untouched, he hefted his ax and shouted, "Taarsidath-an halsaam!" before bolting back into the fray. Cirilla shook off her fear and drew on the power of her mark. She had opened a rift in the mines after Haven had been destroyed and if the power of the Fade could disintegrate those despair demons, perhaps it might hurt the dragon. She lifted her hand and remembered back to that moment. She directed the magic as she had then and something shifted in the air around them. Focusing on that feeling, she felt the mark react. A loud pop sounded and the greenish ball of sucking energy formed beneath the dragon. She danced out of the way as the dragon roared in discomfort. Seeing the magic doing some damage, she set in on the front leg nearest her and began to slice with everything she had.

The dragon's hide was thick, and the purplish scales that began to fall away as she cut were like sawing through bone. Sweat began to drip from her pores. She drew from the bardic arts, using her songs to strengthen herself and her companions with a song of vigor. Another rumble echoed in the dragon's throat just as her rift closed in on itself. Cirilla felt the heat as the dragon aimed it's burst of lightning breath in her direction. Just as it blasted the electrifying breath toward her, she dropped and rolled out of the way, barely making it away from the spot where the grass was now a smoldering black pile of ash. The dragon lifted it's rear and Cirilla shouted, "Look out!" just as it swiped it's tail for Sera. The elf knocked an arrow and took a leaping shot at the dragon, pegging it in the butt while she jumped over the swiping tail. Then she laughed madly as she landed, smashing one of her vials against her chest. She erupted in flames and shot arrow after arrow in quick succession, drawing more blood than Cirilla thought possible with arrows. Cirilla glanced around, seeing Varric keeping a wide berth, but repeatedly firing off bolts from Bianca. Bull was back at the leg he had been swinging at from the beginning and it was starting to look like he had made headway. "Converge on the right foreleg!" she shouted. If they could take out that leg, the dragon would drop and the plan she had worked out, as mad as it sounded, just might be feasible.

She darted to Bull's side and began to slash at the bloodied limb, bolts and arrows soon joining. The dragon attempted to back away from them, biting at them with it's powerful jaws, but Sera shot an arrow into it's chomping mouth, making it retch. When it backed away, the step it took with the damaged leg refused to hold it's weight and with a cry of frustration and pain, it dropped to it's side. Cirilla immediately saw her opening. With Bull on her heels, she darted toward the ramp created by the opposite foot and scrambled for it's head. Bull shoved her forwards, taking the opportunity to grope her rear as he pushed her into place and then swung up beside her. They stood on the dragon's head and it roared in outrage, shaking it's neck to try and knock them off. Cirilla dipped low, balancing perfectly on the violently shaking surface before stabbing her dagger into the nearest vulnerable spot, which happened to be the Dragon's eye. It wailed, while Bull switched from one horn to the other so he could hold on without being pawed at by the dragon's foot as it tried to claw Cirilla from it's eye. He took the opportunity in it's distraction to begin swinging his ax with his free hand, drawing squirting blood to the surface from it's head. The shaking slowed and Cirilla was able to gain purchase just before with a final muted rumble, the dragon's head dropped to the ground, knocking her and Bull off into a pile of limbs.

"Crestwood should give us a medal for this," Varric grumbled as he lovingly closed Bianca's arms and slipped her away.

"Bloody heroes, us!" Sera said with whimsy. "That was... that was great!"

She and Bull righted themselves and he grabbed her upper arms, shaking her a little as he shouted. "Ah HA! Did you see that!? This... is the greatest day of my life! Anaan!" Then he collapsed onto his back, laughing loudly.

She chuckled, getting to her feet, her own heart still racing with adrenaline. "Everyone all right?"

"We'll live," Varric grumbled.

Cirilla moved to where the dragon's head had fallen and dug one of it's teeth loose with her knife to keep as a trophy. She never thought she would be killing a dragon. She pocketed the tooth and moved to hold a hand out to Bull. "Let's get back to the Caer Bronach. Apparently killing dragons makes you hungry." She hefted him to his feet and when Sera skipped off and Varric turned to shuffle after her, Bull grabbed Cirilla's rear, cupping her whole cheek in his hand. "You were magnificent!" he said in a discreet volume before striding off and leaving her craving more.

In the days following their dragon slaying as they headed back toward Skyhold, Cirilla found herself thinking a lot as she reminisced on the relationship she was building with Bull. He topped her like no other ever had in her life and she loved every minute of it, but she was getting the sense that there was more between them. It was the soft little smiles he would throw when he thought she wasn't looking. The tender touches after he knew her body had enough, but couldn't stop touching her even so. The way her heart fluttered when he would step in the path of danger as it came for her. All of these seemingly insignificant things were adding up to a lot.

They were two days outside of Skyhold and had made camp for the night when she got up the nerve to discreetly sit beside him after Varric had turned in and Sera was doodling in her journal in a tree near the edge of camp. "Hey, boss," he said with a grin, setting aside his ax. "You know, it's been a while since you asked me any questions. Get tired of our game?"

She smirked and shrugged. "I guess I just can't think of anything I don't know about the Qunari. I've even seen one naked. Plus I figured after..." she dropped the subject, knowing it was something he really didn't enjoy discussing.

"Yeah, I guess the Qun really isn't something you can fully explain if you're not raised with it," he agreed, deftly avoiding his new role as Tal-Vashoth.

"I suppose I might have another question for you though," she said leadingly.

"Ask away," he said, opening the floor for her.

She dropped her eyes, her hair falling in her face. "So what is this? What are we doing?"

He was quiet for a moment, a light creak of leather from his pauldron indicating he had glanced at Sera before he lifted his hand and tucked her hair from her face. "That's up to you, boss. If you want it light and casual, that's fine with me."

She glanced up at him, his expression frustratingly neutral. "How do Qunari show that they're serious about a relationship?" she wondered, tipping her head and playing aloof. The old game. Just an honest question.

He pulled back a little as he studied her. "They don't. We don't have sex for love." He paused, scrutinizing her again. Her expression was apparently as frustrating as his own because he grunted and said. "But for someone we really care about, there is this old tradition. You find a dragon's tooth, break it in half, and you each wear a piece. Then no matter how far apart life takes you, you're always together."

She nodded, thinking of the tooth she had in her pack. He had not seen her pluck it, so it was her secret. She didn't know how he felt, but for her, no one had made her feel the way he did in a very long time, and not just in the bedroom. "That's a nice sentiment." She patted his knee and got up to head to her tent.

Skyhold was as busy as ever. Cirilla barely found time to grab a decent meal and a bath before she was asked to the war room to pick up a pile of paperwork to add to the mound that was waiting on her desk. Before she got started, she slipped down to the quartermaster and gave him the tooth, having decided that she was ready to share her feelings with Bull and not just her body. She was hoping the conversation was not all together one sided.

She dove into her paperwork while she waited for the pair of necklaces to be completed, remembering how he had shown her how to organize the work. All day, people came in and out of her quarters, managing to find her whenever she went on break, even while she was trying to hide to take a few minutes to breathe. About an hour after her break for dinner, a knock sounded on her door. The nervous young man who had become Threnn's helper handed her a box. She thanked him and took it upstairs to see how the necklaces had turned out. The tooth had been sawed in half, the raw edges shaved smooth. They were both mounted in ornate settings crafted of silverite. The chains they hung from were silverite as well, sturdy and practical as well as beautiful.

The sun was going down outside and she knew she was likely to find Bull in the tavern. She closed up the box with the pair of necklaces inside and slipped away from her work. It would likely be a few days at least until they would be ready to head to the Western Approach. The reports would keep. Bull spotted her the second she stepped in the bar and he held up his mug. "Inquisitor! Come have a drink!"

She graced him with a smile as she moved through the bar, waving at Maryden, the young bard who had introduced herself the second she had arrived. She sat down beside Bull on a stool at the bar. Before the dwarf who ran the tavern could offer her an ale, Bull grabbed a mug and poured her a drink from a bottle he had beside him.

"To killing a high dragon like warriors of legend!" he said, lifting his mug, already sloshing with the drink.

She picked up the mug he offered her and sniffed. The fumes alone nearly made her dizzy. "What exactly am I supposed to be drinking?"

He tipped his head coyly. "Maraas-lok."

"What does that mean?" she asked, holding the drink away from her face before the smell made her eyes water.

"It means drink!" he patted her sloppily on the back. She shrugged and clanked her mug against his before throwing caution to the wind and swallowing the small amount of the maraas-lok that he had poured for her. Immediately, her eyes teared up and her throat felt like it was on fire. She sputtered and coughed while he laughed and patted her again, taking his own sip as her vision swam. "I know, right? Put some chest on your chest." He paused and gazed fondly into his mug. "That little gurgle right before it spat lightning? And that roar. What I wouldn't give to roar like that. The way the ground shook when it landed. The smell of the fires burning... Taarsidath-an halsaam. You know Qunari hold dragons sacred? Well, as much as we hold anything sacred." He paused and poured more in her mug. "Here, your turn."

She attempted to allow the room to quit spinning before she said, "That thing you just said. You shouted it during the fight, too. What does it mean?"

He chuckled. "Oh, Taarsidath-an halsaam? Closest translation would be, 'I will bring myself sexual pleasure later, while thinking about this with great respect'."

She snorted. "You shouted that while it was breathing lightning at us?"

"I know, right?" he said, scooting closer to her and grunting before nudging her shoulder knowingly. She shrugged and took another ill advised sip of the horrible drink, choking it down while he patted her back with another small chuckle. Surprisingly that sip had been less jarring than the first. "Yeah! The second cup's easier. Most of the nerves in your throat are dead after the first one." When her breathing calmed, he dragged his hand down her back, making her shudder. "Ataashi. 'The glorious ones'. That's our word for them. Ataaaasheeeeee," he said slowly.

She leaned her elbow on the bar and watched him, her cheek in her palm. "Why do you think the Qunari think of dragons that way?"

He grimaced as he tried to think of an answer. "Well, you know how we have horns? We kind of look more... dragony... than most people. Maybe it's that." He leaned in closer and offered a hidden smirk. "But a few of the Ben-Hassrath have this crazy old theory. See, the tamassrans control who we mate with. They breed us for jobs like you'd breed dogs or horses. What if they mixed in some dragon a long time ago?" He shrugged. "Maybe drinking the blood, maybe magic. I don't know. But something in that dragon we killed... spoke to me."

"When you put it like that, I'm worried I killed one of your gods or something," she slurred, looking in her mug and realizing it was empty.

"Nah," he shrugged and reached over to correct her empty mug problem. "One of Tevinter's gods, maybe. They worshiped dragons, right? Kill the shit out of them all you like. Dragons are the embodiment of raw power. But it's all uncontrolled, savage... So they need to be destroyed. Taming the wild. Order out of chaos. Have another drink." He laughed as she choked around the fire in her throat and lifted his own mug. "Nice! To dragons!"

He choked as well as the fiery liquid went down from his own swallow. She grinned. "To the Iron Bull." Her head lolled and landed on his shoulder.

"And his ass-kicking Inquisitor," he agreed. He nudged her head back up and leaned in, speaking much lower, his own words slurred. "Hey. Hey, Kadan, listen. I always want to say this, and I never can when we're off saving the world. You've got fantastic tits."

"Aww," she murmured, her head dropping to the bar. What was the word he had called her? Kadan? She tried to keep her wits, but with the strong drink, the world was fuzzy. "I have something for you."

"Really?" he asked, the number of horns he had increasing to four as she watched him move. "Well, I think I've got something for you, too. Come on, I'll go first."


	9. I Am The One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The past comes knocking at Skyhold

She woke in the morning, her head still swimming a bit, but nothing worse than any other hangover she'd had. When she pried her eyes open, she realized that she was in the abandoned room above the tavern where Bull had been resting his head. The man himself was lying beside her, the sheets from the bed wrapped mostly around her. When she shifted, he glanced at her, already awake. The arm under her head flexed beneath her and he started to caress up and down her side. She smiled at him, and he returned the expression. "Good morning."

She stretched and moved to sit up, the sheet so tight around her that it stayed wrapped like a dress when she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. He raised up on his elbow, the other arm continuing his ministrations over her skin as he started to lay soft kisses on her shoulder blade and back. "There we go." he said as her muscles relaxed at his touch. "No Inquisition. No war. Nothing outside this room. Just you and me. So, what'd you wanna talk about?"

She smiled, vaguely remembering that she had mentioned having a gift for him and looked around for her clothes where the box with the necklaces was secured in one of her belt pouches. Before she had the chance to find it, the door swung open and she gasped as Cullen stepped in, his face buried in a report and apparently predictably knowing where she had retired for the night. "Sorry to disturb your rest, Inquisitor, but our fortif..." when he glanced up to continue delivering his report. His hands jerked up so he could block the image of naked Qunari he was witnessing. "Oh, sweet Maker!" and his head turned deliberately away so he was looking out at the battlements.

"Cullen. How's it goin'?" Bull said with a victorious grin that confirmed any thoughts that Cullen might be having while Cirilla made absolutely certain that her sheet was covering all of her bits.

Before Cullen could back out, Josephine innocently walked up beside him. "Is the Inquisitor awake? I thought perhaps we..." when her eyes too fell on the scene, she lost all sense and her voice stopped working properly. Her eyes were wide, but a small smirk began to form on her lips.

Cirilla found her own voice a little bit stammery as she attempted to make an excuse with her hangover addled brain. "This is actually, um..."

"I am so sorry," Cullen apologized, steadfastly refusing to turn and face them, his hands still raised between them as he shook his head.

"I cannot move my legs," Josephine said wispily.

Cirilla was apparently the most sought after person in Thedas as Cassandra wandered up, taking in Cullen and Josephine's states and passing by them with a grunt, "Is something the matt... ah!" Her eyes went wide and her mouth dropped open in an O of shock as she stopped in her tracks.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Bull grumbled from behind Cirilla.

Cassandra turned to glance at Josie and Cullen with a scowl. "Do you see this?"

"No," Cullen said harshly.

Cassandra turned back around and looked at Cirilla. "So I take it..."

"Actually," Bull interrupted her with a chuckle. "_She's_ the one who's been taking it."

Cirilla swatted his hand away with a smirk she couldn't help, as much as she wanted to be mortified by what was happening as Cullen let out an amused snort that he quickly silenced. Cassandra was smiling as well. "I apologize for interrupting what I assume was a... momentary diversion?"

"Nothing wrong with having a bit of fun," Cullen added, his usual teasing smirk firmly in place, but his eyes still averted and his hands up in strategic placement to block out certain sights.

"Who wouldn't be a little curious?" Josie said with a small titter as her eyes drank in Bull as he didn't even bother trying to cover up.

Cirilla felt suddenly emboldened as all eyes fell on her, looking for an explanation. "This was more than just a momentary diversion, and Bull and I intend to continue," she said quickly, getting to her feet. "Is that a problem?" Her eyes narrowed, daring any of them to argue.

"No!" Cullen said almost as quickly while Josephine's hand reached out blindly to grab hold of the door handle.

"Not at all!" Josie agreed on top of his statement.

Cassandra chuckled and smiled. "A surprise, I'll admit. But not a problem."

"We'll leave you be," Cullen said, offering Cirilla an encouraging grin as he turned and finally dropped his arms back to his sides.

"Yes." Josephine herded Cassandra from the room, pulling the door shut. "Do enjoy yourselves."

Cirilla dropped back down to sit on the bed and rub at her throbbing temples. Bull sighed and shifted behind her to sit up next to her. "You okay, boss?"

She couldn't help but chuckle. "I think we may have blinded poor Cullen." He smirked and shook his head with an enamored gleam in his eye. She spotted the belt pouch and got up to go to it and pick it off the floor to take the box out. "But since we have a moment..."

"What's that?" he asked as she rejoined him on the bed.

She carefully opened the box and showed him the pendants. "A dragon's tooth, split in two. So no matter how far apart life takes us, we're always together."

He looked from her to the necklaces and the adoring smile remained. "Not often people surprise me, Kadan."

He reached in the box and took the half on the thinner chain out and unfastened the clasp. "Kadan?" she asked as he reached around her to fasten it around her neck.

"Kadan. My heart," he translated.

"Kadan," she repeated with a smile as he traced fingertips down the side of her face, brushing hair from her eyes.

He leaned in and their lips met softly. She blindly worked around the clasp, settling his pendant around his neck as well before he gently guided her onto her back. There was no urgency, no torment or teasing, as his hands and mouth found their way all over her body. He took her cues and never once made her beg. It was passionate and playful, letting her realize that he had been in the same muddied state as she had, not truly understanding what they were doing. She would never stop needing him, but now they were more.

After taking a few days rest and catching up with her people, Cirilla gathered her usual road crew and set off for the Western Approach. It was going to be a long trip, a few weeks at least, and she was happy to sit back in her saddle most days and listen to the others as they laughed and joked. Other times, if the group got quiet, she would take the brand new lute that Bull had given her just before they left Skyhold, and give her voice a work out while they rode. Even her horse seemed to like her playing.

The trip took them through the burnt out plains of the Dales into the lush green forests of the Emerald Graves. Cullen had given her a report of Red Lyrium shipments that were spotted in the Graves and she took the time along the way to meet with a man named Fairbanks who was leading a group of folks in the woods that were holding back the vicious onslaught of the bandits in the area known as the Freemen of the Dales. He pointed her to the roads through the area and she was able to gather some intel and kill a few red templars along the way. The intel she sent to Cullen. It would be a huge help in weeding out Samson's followers and cutting off their supplies if they could be tracked to a base of operations. They had to be mining the red stuff from somewhere.

The green of the Graves slowly petered out to the tan of the desert as they made their way to the Approach. The days got longer, the sun hotter, the nights shorter and practically frigid. Cirilla found herself huddling as close as she could get to Bull each night when they bedded down to sleep, the cold not seeming to bother him whatsoever. He also seemed to have an immunity to the harsh rays of the sun that were threatening to burn straight through her fair skin. She was glad she had never given up her hood and face mask. Sera's nose was beet red and Varric complained constantly about the sand that whipped across the rolling dunes and found its way inside your clothes, no matter what precautions you took against it. There were barely any trees anywhere and it made for poor shelter from the elements.

By the time they reached Harding at the forward camp, the small woman's already heavily freckled face seemed to have turned into more freckle than face. The camp was set up in a ravine beside a layered cliff face that offered the collection of tents a small reprieve from the beating sun. There was a thin trickle of something that was trying it's best to be a river but coming up short. Harding greeted them cheerily as usual. "Your Worship! Welcome to the Western Approach. We've sighted Warden activity to the south west, but no one's been close enough to figure out what they're doing. Between the sandstorms and the vicious wildlife, we haven't made it far out here. One of my men got too close to a poison hot spring and gave me a slightly delirious report of a high dragon flying over head. In short, this might just be the worst place in the entire world. Be careful out there."

At mention of a dragon, Bull nudged her and when she glanced at him he was grinning excitedly. She offered her own smirk and roll of her eyes as she looked back at Harding. "Well, it's good to know what I'm in for."

Harding shuffled her feet, her hands still clasped behind her back like they always were when she delivered her reports. "Sorry I don't have more for you. We intercepted a Venatori messenger and 'persuaded' him to give up the orders he was carrying. We have them here." She gestured toward a squat table that had been set up outside one of the tents. A pile of papers was held down against the wind with a rock. Then her cheery expression slipped and she looked warily around. "This whole place... It just feels like something's not right. Be careful."

Cirilla glanced over the orders before they headed from the camp to follow Stroud's map to the Tevinter tower. She didn't like the talk of the Venatori and took a side trip to the ruins they mentioned. Inside, they found a curious sight. A rift hung in the air, everything around it frozen in place, demons and Tevinters locked in a still and silent battle. Cirilla reached out to tentatively touch some of the green and black crystals that made up the rift itself. "No shit!" Varric mumbled in awe. The mark had no reaction to the rift. Bull grunted in discomfort and pulled her hand away from the crystals.

With a sigh, she said, "Let's see if we can't figure out what's going on here."

Across the ruins and through some Venatori that were not quite as frozen as their companions, they found a staff jammed in a hole in the ground, symbols etched in the ground around it and magic swirling around the shaft. "Don't go poking," Sera warned with a hiss.

As much as she wanted to listen, she couldn't just leave the staff and the ruins for just anyone to find and to seal the rift, she needed it not frozen in time. She stepped up on the raised floor and wrapped both hands around the staff. Magic tickled along her skin and she twisted it free from the base where it rested. Immediately after the staff came free, the ground beneath them quaked and Bull was beside her, pulling her to his chest to shield her from the large debris that fell from the ceiling. "I think time is flowing again," she said as the quaking stopped and the eerie silence they had been hearing was broken by the shriek of a terror demon.

"Urgh," Sera grumbled. "I told you don't go poking."

Bull took the staff from her and lashed it to his back, understanding that she had removed it for a reason and it needed to be brought under their control. A half dozen demons met them on the way back through the mezannine and then as they approached where the rift sat, Cirilla saw that the crystals had indeed begun to jut back and forth from the center of the rift like she was used to. The Tevinters were dead and she sprinted toward the rift. "Hurry, before it gets worse!"

"It's already worse! Just kill them!" Sera cried as she sprinted past Cirilla and started firing off arrows.

The demons clustered at the bottom of the stairs below and Bull charged past Cirilla to get in the midst of them and spin in a wide arc, his ax cutting a hole in the group. She scurried down to join him, slipping into the shadows and ducking low to swipe at the shades and terror demons not caught in Bull's circumference. One of the demons that leaked an aura of cold and brought images of debilitating despair to the front of her mind swooped in low as it hovered on the air and unleashed a blast of ice. She dodged out of the way, breathing around the tears it was forcing to her eyes. Bull barreled through the field, swinging his ax as quickly as he could while she tried to keep out of the way of the deadly spray of ice. Varric vaulted one of the low railings and Bianca clicked into action, a volley of bolts slamming so hard into the floating demon that it jerked a few feet away from her. The interruption stopped it's icy magic and Cirilla got to her feet and charged at the thing, but it was too fast, swooping higher and out of her reach. "Kadan, duck!"

She dropped low and felt the swing of Bull's ax breeze over her as he finally reached the demon and cleaved it in two. She chanced a glance up and saw the rift hovering open. Without a second glance, she bolted toward it and pulled it closed before more demons could make it through. "Well, that's over," she said breathlessly, brushing the remnants of tears from the demon's touch from her eyes.

Bull sidled up to her, his eye giving her a once over. "Next time, the damn demons can stay frozen."

The Approach yielded them another keep that had been overrun by Venatori until Cirilla and her people broke down the doors and cleared them out, much like they had in Crestwood with Caer Bronach. Now they were finally crossing the desert to reach Hawke and Stroud. The ritual tower was not much of a tower, but it stood atop a small round cliff in the middle of a wide circular canyon. Hawke and Stroud stood looking nervously across the bridge that led to the tower when they approached. Stroud turned and sighed. "I'm glad you made it, Inquisitor. I fear they've already started the ritual."

Hawke grunted. "It has to be blood magic. I hope we can stop them before more people get hurt. You take point. I'll guard your backs."

Cirilla nodded and she and Stroud walked shoulder to shoulder across the narrow bridge and up the long staircase to the tower. Noises and voices met them as they approached closer. Nothing coming from the tower sounded pleasant. Sounds of magic and pleading voices put speed to her steps. As soon as she crossed the threshold, a voice greeted her personally. "Inquisitor! What an unexpected pleasure." The man that went with the voice was dressed in distinctly Tevinter clothing, colored lightly for the desert sun. His complexion was nearly as pasty beneath the short pony tail that he wore his black hair in. Wisps of hair fell from the tail, fluttering around his sneer as he executed a perfect bow, flourishing his hands. "Lord Livius Erimond of Vyrnatium, at your service." When he rose, the sun reflected off the heavily greased mustache and sharply pointed goatee that was surrounded by stubble that gave away the fact that they had been at this ritual for some time.

"You are no Warden," Stroud accused, taking in the clothing and attitude.

All Cirilla cared about was the stack of bodies in the corner, all wearing the armor of the Grey Wardens and the cluster of demons and Wardens standing, calm as you like, before Erimond. The magister clucked in disappointment. "But you are. The one Clarel let slip. And you found the Inquisitor and came to stop me. Shall we see how that goes?" He paced casually, the smirk on his face victorious.

Cirilla chose to ignore him. "Wardens!" There was no response from the mages as they stared blankly. "This man is lying to you. He serves an ancient Tevinter Magister who wants to unleash a Blight!"

A small snigger escaped Erimond. "That's a very serious accusation. Let's see what the Wardens think." He ganced at the men and lifted his left arm. "Wardens, hands up." As a group, the Wardens all mirrored his gesture. "Hands down." All of their arms dropped with his.

Stroud gasped as Cirilla's stomach rolled into knots. "Corypheus has taken their minds," Stroud pointed out.

"They did this to themselves," Erimond explained, his triumphant grin still in place. "You see, the Calling had the Wardens terrified. They looked _everywhere_ for help."

"Even Tevinter," Stroud growled.

"Yes. And since it was my _master_ who put the Calling into their little heads, we in the Venatori were prepared. I went to Clarel full of sympathy, and together, we came up with a plan..." he preened, crossing his arms over his chest as if they were no threat. "Raise a demon army, march into the Deep Roads, and kill the Old Gods before they wake."

Suddenly the demons standing around made sense and the knot in her gut tightened further. "Corypheus marching across Orlais with an army of demons? That was in the future I saw in Redcliffe."

"And now you know how it begins," Erimond confirmed. "Sadly for the Wardens, the binding ritual I taught their mages has a side effect. They're now my master's slaves. This was a test. Once the rest of the Wardens complete the ritual, the army will conquer Thedas."

Cirilla unleashed the knot in her stomach and drew her daggers. "That's all I needed to know."

"Oh, please," Erimond sneered before she could go any further. He reached out with a palm and cast a brief spell. Her mark ignited in a blaze of agony. She dropped her daggers and her right hand grabbed hold of her left wrist, a brief wish that she could just chop the thing off if it would make the pain stop washing over her. She cried out as Erimond continued to rant. Hands landed on her back and arms as she crumpled to the ground. "The Elder One showed me how to deal with you, in the event you were foolish enough to interfere again." Cirilla closed her eyes, closing her fist around the agony of the mark and breathed in deeply. She had been in control of the mark for months. He was not going to take that from her. The Wardens had been using a rift to call their pets forth. She focused everything she had on coming back to herself and regaining her footing around the pain. "That mark you bear? The Anchor that lets you pass safely through the veil? You stole that from my master. He's been forced to seek other ways to access the Fade." Erimond was still ranting as Cirilla forced her legs back under herself and the steadying hands from Stroud and Bull left her as she lifted her mark toward the rift. "When I bring him your head, his gratitude will be..."

Cirilla harnessed the magic in the mark and turned it outwards, tossing a bolt of energy that slammed into Erimond and knocked him to the ground, the rift closing around itself. He shouted in surprise as he rolled over a few times and then slowly got to his feet. With a glance at Cirilla and her people, his eyes wide, he turned and shuffled off, clutching his side with parting orders to kill them. She dipped to grab her daggers, cursing as the Wardens got between her and Erimond. There was no reasoning. The demons and the Wardens all had to die. Cirilla sluggishly fell into a sloppily executed parry as a rage demon swiped downwards at her. She could feel the heat from it's lava body, closer than she was comfortable with. She whimpered as Hawke came charging in from across the bridge, his own daggers bare in his hands and glinting in the sun, drawn by the fighting. He rushed for the demon just as her arms collapsed. Before the demon's arm came down, she felt Bull's familiar hand fall on her back and grab hold of her coat. He yanked her off her feet and out of the line of fire. "Stay behind me," he grumbled, the concerned look on his face making her protest fall away. She nodded and complied, taking a moment to rest her palms on her knees and regain her breath as the others took out the threats.

"They refused to listen to reason," Hawke said, his tone sad as everyone gathered around her. She straightened and nodded grimly as Stroud spoke next.

"You were correct. Through their ritual, the mages are slaves to Corypheus."

"And the Warden warriors?" Hawke asked hopefully until he glanced around and caught sight of the pile of corpses. His expression fell. "Of course. Sacrificed in the ritual. What a waste."

Cirilla pinched the bridge of her nose, crossing her arms over her chest. "Erimond lied to the Wardens. They were trying to prevent future Blights."

A short derisive snort left Hawke before he pointed out. "With blood magic and human sacrifice." He was right. No matter how you looked at it, the situation was shitty.

"The Wardens were wrong, Hawke," Stroud conceded. "But they had their reasons."

Hawke crossed his arms and a single brow rose up to hide beneath the splash if hair that fell over his face. "All blood mages do. Everyone has a story they tell themselves to justify bad decisions... and it never matters. In the end, you are always alone with your actions."

Stroud was apparently going to ignore Hawke's argument as he glanced at Cirilla. "I believe I know where the Wardens are, Your Worship. Erimond fled in that direction. There's an abandoned Warden fortress that way. Adamant."

Cirilla nodded and uncrossed her arms to flex her throbbing palm. "I guess they didn't want to summon a demon army out in public."

"The Warden and I will scout out Adamant and confirm that the other Wardens are there. We'll meet you back at Skyhold," Hawke offered, with a friendly smile before gently urging Stroud away.

"I'm fine," Cirilla sighed as Bull picked up her left hand and pulled her glove free of the Anchor. It was still flickering and spitting a small amount of green magic, but the throbbing was dissipating. "Let's get out of here. At this point, I think I would even trade this sand for a good old fashioned rainstorm."

Varric chuckled. "Call the healers! Ribbons has finally lost it."

They headed back to Griffin Wing Keep for the night where Cullen's right hand, Knight Captain Rylen, a young and enthusiastic former templar from Starkhaven, gave them a full report of the situation before they settled in.

Cirilla found a small private room and claimed it, Bull following her in and closing the door behind them as she flopped dramatically onto the bed and flung her arm over her eyes with a groan. "Darkspawn, dragons, poison springs, poison water and sand..." she shuddered. "I hate the desert."

Bull dropped his ax on it's head noisily, leaning the handle on the wall and then leaned himself beside it, crossing his arms. "How's that hand doing, boss?" he asked, the use of 'boss' making her realize he was not in the mood for lies or jokes.

She lifted her arm from her eyes to gaze fully at the flexed muscles of his chest as he stood rigid, awaiting her response. She glanced away briefly to look at the Anchor as she held it above her, which had calmed to it's usual humming glow. She wiggled her fingers then turned her hand over to show him. "Good as new."

He harrumphed and dropped his arms to his sides, pushing from the wall to approach her. "Apparently, when it was new it was killing you, so you'll need to be more specific."

He sat on the edge of the bed and she sat up to cup his face with the offending hand. "It's fine, Kadan," she assured him, adopting his pet name. While he studied her with his single piercing eye, she lifted her other hand to join the first on the opposite side of his face, then she shifted, rolling her body so she was in his lap, straddling his hips. He grunted angrily, but she slid her hands up and around his head to pull his mouth to hers. "I'd be much better if you could take my mind off of everything that happened today."

He didn't need any more coaxing as she rolled her hips against him. He growled deep in his chest and his hands gripped her ass as he stood, her in his arms like she weighed nothing. He spun and dropped her back onto the mattress. "Is being stubborn a red head thing, or is it just you?" he grumbled as he dropped to his knees and started in on her belt.

She giggled and lifted her right leg to drape it over his shoulder and pull him closer to her. "I recall you said you had a thing for red heads."

His annoyance slowly dwindled and she watched him fight to stay irritated. "That was before I knew they were so much trouble." He yanked her belt free, his lips quirking slightly before he stifled the smile and slapped her leg off his shoulder. "For that, I get my way tonight..."

Back at Skyhold, Cirilla's first mission was to stop in and reconnect with all of her people. She had been gone nearly two months with all of the side trips and bullshit that had come up along the way. She dreaded going to the war room, because she was convinced that there would be a pile of reports as tall as she was waiting for her. She made her way from the stables and through the courtyard, noticing all of the progress that had been made on Skyhold itself in her absence. Much of the scaffolding had come down and heraldries and flags had been hung everywhere. The stretch of land in the courtyard that had been the infirmary had been cleaned up and built into a proper healing quarters. In the upper courtyard, none of the tents remained, and it seemed that the people had all been assigned living quarters. It was the middle of the day, and there were people everywhere going about their duties, or taking a moment to relax, or socializing. Skyhold looked amazing.

Having already spoken briefly with the stoic Blackwall, and making certain that with the false Calling, his mental state was stable, she bypassed the armory and the tavern in favor of the main hall where she could stop in on Josie on her way to the war room and then head up to her quarters for a much needed soak in her tub. She pushed the door to Josie's office open and saw Leliana standing in front of the desk with a piece of parchment in her hands, and Josie with her elbows on the desk, rubbing her temples. "And what else did Lady Forsythia say?"

Leliana read from the paper in her hands, her lips quirked. It was the only indication of her amusement. "That she'd rather drown herself than help the Inquisition."

"Anything else?" Josie asked with a sigh.

Leliana scanned the paper again and continued. "She said she'd have us 'flogged alive' if we allied with her brother.

Josephine rolled her eyes as Leliana set the paper down and chuckled. "That does sound like her."

"Cheer up, Josie," Leliana said in a perky tone. "We at least have her attention."

"You always do find the brighter side of things," Josie sighed again and scribbled something on a paper in front of her. Leliana looked up and acknowledged Cirilla with a sweet smile and a nod before patting Josie's shoulder through her ruffles and gliding from the room. Without preamble, Josie said as the door closed behind Leliana, "We are in the midst of cementing an alliance with Lady Forsythia of Nevarra, Your Worship. It's become a somewhat... delicate task."

Cirilla chuckled, thinking of the nonsensical threats and said teasingly, tossing a thumb over her shoulder, "Should I post more guards outside your room?"

"That should be unnecessary, Inquisitor. I dissuaded her from sending soldiers when she learned we'd struck an accord with a brother she's feuding with. Lady Forsythia... Simply employs a colorful manner of speech."

Cirilla snorted again. "You're rather good natured about threats of death and dismemberment."

"They are chiefly bluster, Inquisitor," Josie insisted, shifting in her chair. "Most of them." Then she rose from her seat and sighed. "But I confess, I do miss my staff from the embassy in Antiva. It was always useful to discuss the day's visitors with them." She hugged herself and glanced out her small window.

Cirilla smiled, hoping she wasn't going to regret the offer. "I have time, if you'd like to review things with me."

Josie wrung her hands. "I wouldn't wish to impose."

"If it were imposing, I wouldn't have offered," Cirilla said with a chuckle.

Josie's face lit up. "Well... I admit there are a few potential alliances it would be good to discuss..."

They had started in the war room where Cirilla gathered her surprisingly small stack of reports and had made it to Cirilla's quarters where she sat and listened to Josie while both reading and sorting out reports like Bull had taught her. The, at first, serious conversation had soon turned from politics and the Inquisition to Josie talking a mile a minute about whatever came to mind. Cirilla found it soothing as she added her own voice intermittently to let Josie know she was still listening in spite of evidence to the contrary. Finally as afternoon shifted to dusk, Josie realized how long she had been shirking her duties and apologized several times in spite of Cirilla's insistence that it was fine. They headed back down to the war room together, Josephine breaking off in her office to go back to her own work.

Cirilla hummed as she strolled down the hall to the war room, dancing lightly around the scattered bricks that still hadn't been picked up. When she slipped into the room, absorbing the familiar feel of the magic of the table, she looked up to see Cassandra pouring over maps that she had spread out over top of the carved image. When the warrior heard the door, she glanced up and sighed. "I can keep staring at this, but I won't get any closer."

"Something I can help you with?" Cirilla asked, gliding around the table and placing her separate piles down and securing them against the light breeze that was coming in the open windows.

Cassandra looked shocked, taking in Cirilla's attire and reminding her that she still hadn't gotten a chance to take that soak in the tub that she had wanted so badly before the call of Inquisitor needed to be answered. "Yes. Possibly," she said hesitantly. When Cirilla arched a brow, Cassandra continued. "We saw so many red templars at the assault on Haven. Perhaps all that was left of the Order." She paced along the edge of the table, running her finger tips over the polished wood. "What we didn't see was Lord Seeker Lucius. Indeed, I've seen no hint of _any_ Seekers amongst the red templars. Or anywhere." She leaned on the table, shuffling maps again. "I've a growing suspicion Corypheus has imprisoned them."

Cirilla tipped her head, resting a hip against the sill of the closest window and crossing her arms. "Why imprisoned? He could just as easily have killed them."

Cassandra shook her head. "Not _easily_. But, yes, they may be dead. But the Seekers began this war against the mages. They cannot have simply vanished. There _must_ be a trail we can follow, yet so far I have only discovered hints."

"But they could have ended up just like the red templars," Cirilla pointed out.

"Seekers do not use lyrium," Cassandra insisted. "I assume Corypheus gained control of the templars by corrupting the lyrium they were already taking. To do the same to a Seeker, you'd have to force the lyrium upon him. That may be what happened, but it couldn't have began that way. We're missing a piece of the puzzle, Inquisitor. I need to find it."

Cirilla pushed away from the window and approached Cassandra. "Finding them obviously means a lot to you." She took up a bit of blank parchment and dipped a quill in some ink, scribbling a note for Leliana.

"I left the Order, but I can never abandon them," Cassandra agreed. "I cannot even claim that rescuing them would be beneficial... they wouldn't look kindly on the Inquisition. But even so, if there's a chance..." Cassandra followed as Cirilla slipped the note into Leliana's pile and then headed for the portal door. "If we can spare resources to follow up on these leads, Inquisitor, I would appreciate it."

They walked to the courtyard together and Cassandra headed for her space above the armory, and Cirilla for the tavern. Dinner sounded really good. With Josie hanging around, Cole had not had the chance to drop off snacks to her while she did her paperwork like he was wont to do. After settling in at a table alone, Cirilla dug into her steak, peas, and potatoes.

When her meal was almost finished, Sera came scrambling down the stairs and flopped into a chair across from her. She smiled at the elf who returned the expression with a scowl. "You have a problem." Without allowing Cirilla to ask the question, Sera continued, gesturing around them. "That, over there, is a full tavern, but everyone's drinking alone." Cirilla glanced around and realized that Sera was right. There was muted conversation but nothing nearly resembling the usual chatter and bustle of a busy tavern. "They're all up their own arses about the Inquisition. _I_ can't have fun with everybody whinging. And they'll fall on their swords before Coryphenus can push them. I'm thinking pranks. Just you and me, messing around in people's stuff. You know, to start."

Cirilla blinked, catching up with Sera's speed talk. Normally it was easy for her to keep up, but she was tired. "But I'm the Inquisitor. You know, the leader?"

"Right, they'll never suspect you," Sera pointed out, her voice just excited enough to still be muted, but convey her anticipation. "What, titles are only for getting away with bad stuff? Let's do something fun. Come on!"

Cirilla grinned. "Lead the way."

"What, really?" Sera's eyes lit up and she sat back in her chair as if Cirilla's agreement had physically blown her away.

"Really," Cirilla repeated, pushing her empty plate to the middle of the table and taking Sera's hand which Sera proceeded to use to drag her from her seat and up the stairs through the tavern, giggling.

"I knew you were different. Let's go."

They made it all through Skyhold, setting little harmless traps for her advisers, nearly getting caught in the rookery. Sera and her dashed away and ran for the tavern to grab a celebratory drink, laughing all the way. "That was fun!" Sera gasped as she dropped onto a stool. "An Inquisitor of the people, still remembering you're one of them. If all they got was the Herald stuff, the serious bit, you'd start to sound pretty scary. That works, but not for long."

Cirilla took the mug that Cabot slid to her and nodded with a snort. "Whatever it takes. I'd start throwing pies if it kept people inspired."

"Pies is so good! And Coryphenus would never do that," Sera giggled. "Good thing for you, innit? Because from the bottom, everyone up top sort of seems the same. It was fun chasing you Ciri. Nice view," Sera said with a wink, leaning over to kiss Cirilla's cheek sloppily.

She stood up to head back to her headache inducing room when the door of the tavern swung open with a bang, making Cirilla jump and slosh her ale. "You!" Josie's voice echoed around the mostly empty tavern.

Sera's eyes widened. "Oh, frig!" Then she looked at Cirilla and pointed. "You did it!" Then she ran off giggling madly. Cirilla was afraid to turn around. If she did, she just might lose it in Josie's face. She slowly cocked her head to catch a glimpse of the disapproving scowl and drooping ruffles of Josie's soaking wet clothes. The bucket had apparently tipped perfectly, soaking not only her person, but her head as well. Her dark hair was plastered to her face. Cirilla turned back around and hunched over her drink chuckling silently as Josie spun and stalked off to clean herself up.

As she made her way through her rounds the next day, talking with her companions throughout Skyhold, Cirilla noticed that not only had the buildings been receiving repairs, but some decor had begun to spring up around the great hall. The suggestions she had made to Josie about appeasing Orlais was showing in the very Orlesian designs. Oddly enough when she ventured up to the balcony that overlooked the throne, Vivienne greeted her with a smile and said, "You've made such intriguing design choices for the castle, my dear. They must be inspired."

"Thank you, Vivienne. I'm glad you approve," she said with a smile, gazing over the outer side of the balcony and noticing that Vivienne had a flawless view of the training ring where Bull and Krem were back at their usual training. She trained her ears to listen to Vivienne as she watched the soundless show far below.

"When things have settled down a bit, I will take you to Val Royeaux and introduce you to my seamstress. And appearances are important. We can't have you mistaken for a commoner."

As much as Cirilla felt excited by the prospect of visiting a seamstress that catered to a mistress of a council of herald's emissary, she shrugged and brushed at the casual clothes she was wearing. "I've never been much concerned with maintaining the distinction of rank."

Vivienne snorted delicately. "It's not about rank, darling. It's about power. You command an army of the faithful, outfitted by the coin of the nobility. You must be a woman who commoners aspire to be and to whom nobles bow."

Cirilla felt her face warming. In her previous line of work, standing out was a death sentence. She was also reminded of her little jaunt among the tents with Bull just after she was named Inquisitor. It didn't matter what she wore or what she looked like. "My actions will inspire them. Appearances don't matter."

"It would be a lovely world if we were all judged purely on our conduct, my dear, but it would not be this world. The stories of your accomplishments will spread and, with them, doubt. Are you truly the woman from the tales? They will question what they've heard, but they will believe what they see. They must see someone greater than legends," Vivienne explained, crossing her arms.

"There are plenty of others in the Inquisition who can serve to inspire the people. It doesn't have to be me."

Vivienne outwardly tittered as if Cirilla was adorable. "My dear, ask yourself what will become of you if the Inquisition can endure on it's own." One of her brows arched. "If you are no longer necessary to move the faithful, you're a liability, a rival to those who would use the power you've amassed. Don't follow Andraste's path into the bonfire, Inquisitor."

Cirilla sighed and excused herself, heading down to check on Josie and the war room. Vivienne was a huge asset when it came to politics, but she unnerved Cirilla. It was people like Vivienne that usually stood in her way, sniffing out a bard that might threaten their own patrons. Across the hall from the stairway down, she stepped into Josie's office and the ambassador looked up and gasped in excitement, shuffling a few papers to deliver some news. "Noble Chantry loyalists in the city of Jader are spreading accusations that you're responsible for the Divine's death. They're unusually organized. I recommend we send people to Jader, to deal with the matter."

Cirilla sighed heavily. "Will anyone even believe me if I claim I didn't kill the Divine?"

Josie hummed and tipped her head. "Perhaps if they learn about your heroics. We should emphasize how you stopped the Breach devouring the sky. Even in Jader, it may win you a few admirers."

Cirilla was frowning as her mind tried to work out the reasoning. "What does the nobility gain by saying I murdered Justinia?"

"A scapegoat to begin with," Josie explained. "But I wonder if the Grand Clerics are at work. Those immediately eligible to be Divine died at the conclave. The ones remaining were... not as favored. They may look upon you as a rival for influence."

Cirilla pursed her lips and nodded, Josie's explanation making sense. "Let's send some ambassadors to convince Jader I'm not a monster in disguise."

Josie beamed at Cirilla's choice. "Excellent. I believe there's much to be gained by winning them over."

After checking the war room for more paperwork and finding none, Cirilla made her way outside. It was a beautiful day and as she circled the gardens, letting the sun shine down on her upturned face and inhaling deeply of the various herbs and flowers that had been planted by Adan and his band of apothecaries, she heard familiar voices carrying on the wind. They were upbeat and laughter filled the air as she headed for the intimate gazebo. Dorian sat draped in a chair opposite Cullen, obviously displaying himself purposefully for all to see, especially the man across from him. He made fabulous look casual as Cullen sat forward, one eye on the chess board between them and the other on Dorian. As Cirilla approached, her boots scraping through the gravel around the gazebo, Cullen's eyes flicked toward the disturbance. When he saw it was her, his hand left the piece he had been reaching for and he awkwardly made to stand in respect, his knees bumping the table and jostling a few of the pieces. "Inquisitor!"

Cirilla smiled and waved him off, leaning casually against the arch of the gazebo and watching Dorian lean forward slightly and adjust the pieces, tsking as he shifted a few pieces in his favor. "Leaving, are you?" he pouted as Cullen swallowed his embarrassment in favor of an insincere sneer as Dorian continued. "Does this mean I win?"

As Cullen seated himself, Cirilla said, "Are you two playing nice?"

"I'm _always_ nice," Dorian said slyly, his eyes flowing over Cullen and his mustache lifting in a crooked smirk, as the man picked out the pieces that had been moved and ignored the blatant cheating. "You need to come to terms with my inevitable victory. You'll feel much better."

"Really?" Cullen said, picking up a piece of his own and ending the game. "Because I just won. And I feel fine." He chuckled lightly and leaned back in his own chair.

Dorian allowed his eyes to leave Cullen and inspect the board. With a small, self deprecating snort that barely ruffled his mustache, he lifted his jeweled hands in defeat and said, "Don't get smug. There'll be no living with you." Then he stood gracefully and brushed Cirilla as he passed with a wink and glance over his shoulder at Cullen.

"I should return to my duties as well," Cullen said slowly, fiddling with the winning piece and watching Dorian disappear back into the castle. "Unless you would care for a game?" His eyes met hers as the door closed with a soft clanking from across the garden.

Cirilla smirked. "Prepare the board, Commander."

They played for hours, chatting amiably until the bright sun from the day started to paint the horizon gold. Cirilla got the feeling that in spite of him being present and chatty, his mind was up in the library with Dorian. She had walked in on some pretty heavy flirting on Dorian's part, and she wouldn't be surprised if the interest was reciprocated. Dorian was a handsome and charismatic man. After winning the game, she left him with a smile and a promise that she would give him a chance for revenge sometime.

The main hall was deserted, with most of the people wandering off to dinner or changing shift. Cirilla took a left from the garden entrance and headed toward the throne and her quarters. A single guard was standing outside the Undercroft, looking bored and leaning on his pike. His eyes followed her in spite of the bored expression on his face, and an icy sensation crept up her spine, making her shudder. Just as she was about to glance back at the guard, arms wrapped around her middle and lifted her off the ground. She shrieked aloud and jammed her elbow backwards, but was met with a large hand that held the limb against her side. "Easy, Kadan," Bull said with a forced chuckle as he set her back on her feet and released the limbs.

She looked around him for the guard that had made her uneasy, but he was gone. She looked back at Bull and noted the wink and slight nod from him that told her he had noticed the guard, too. She put on her best irritated face and shoved Bull's shoulder weakly with a palm. "You scared me."

He grinned and backed her into the door. "I'll do more than that once we're upstairs." He reached behind her and twisted the knob to open the door. She allowed herself to fall inwards, immediately setting herself on alert, as they escaped the hall and prowling guards. Bull closed the door behind him, his hand on the small ax he kept at his hip at all times as she turned round in the narrow space, checking the dimly lit corners and the rafters above and below for anyone else.

The stairs and tower were clear, as far as she could tell, and she reached to lock the door so they could not be followed. Making casual sounds and conversation as they made their way upstairs, they crept up, on full alert for anyone who might be hidden in her quarters. She stepped easily around her offset floor tile and into the room, taking Bull's ax and dropping it to the ground with a chuckle. _Show that you're vulnerable. Draw them out._ Bull caught on easily to her ruse and backed her toward the wall where he had first pinned her arms above her head and warned her what she was getting into. Even as they pretended, she felt her insides clench in anticipation while she strained her ears.

Bull leaned in to place his lips just below her ear, breathing on her exposed neck. "Two of them. In the closets," he whispered.

She giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck, then nibbling on his earlobe, she said just as softly, "Take me to the bed. They'll strike when we're vulnerable. I'll take your blind side."

"You don't have to tell me twice." He bent and his arms wrapped around her knees, lifting her up and turning them so he could deposit her on the bed. Following her down, they both pretended like nothing was amiss. After only moments, she heard a creak of the closet door to her right and felt Bull's muscles tense as he made to pounce. On her left, she caught sight of movement and her eyes flicked to the brightly colored clothing and the mask beneath the hood. She slipped easily from beneath Bull as he moved toward his target, and grabbed a dagger she kept beneath her pillow. She swiped at the woman, identifying the outfit immediately. She was a harlequin. Someone in Orlais wanted her dead. Putting the realization aside, she tracked the swift woman as she darted away and put distance between them.

Trusting Bull to keep himself alive, she engaged the professional assassin. A slurry of daggers flew toward her, so quickly that she barely escaped as she bent back and then dove forward, putting herself in reach of the woman. She swiped for her ankles, but the harlequin jumped over the attempt and stepped aside. Cirilla got up from her crouch and grabbed a second dagger from the top of her desk. Just as she lunged for the woman again, the woman slammed a vial to the ground and a flash of smoke exploded in Cirilla's face. She shielded her eyes and ducked backwards out of the smoke, listening for where the woman ran to. She spun, hearing the footfalls behind her just in time. Her dagger bit into something, but again, the woman slipped away. Cirilla glanced at her dagger and grinned. She had drawn blood. The harlequin's movements were not quite so fluid as they had been. She weaved, but Cirilla took over the advantage. She swiped again and this time, knocked the woman's dagger from her hand. She could smell the poison on the other woman's blades, and she evaded as best she could, as her opponent executed a series of spins and jabs with her remaining weapon, her injured side slowing her more and more as her blood stained her colorful outfit. Cirilla saw her opening and twirled, then ducked beneath the woman's jab, coming up with her dagger and slitting her throat. On the other side of the room, she heard a snap and spun to see Bull dropping the other assassin's body. This one was a man.

"Who the fuck are these assholes?" he asked, glaring down at the pair of bodies.

"House of Repose," Cirilla informed him. "Someone in Orlais has decided they want me dead." Then she moved across the room to be sure they hadn't gotten a piece of Bull. "Their blades were poisoned. He didn't hit you, did he?"

"Nah, I'm fine. We should probably tell Red about this," Bull suggested, doing his own inspection of her person.

"First, we find that other guard. These two were the back-ups," she agreed.

She took Bull to Cullen's tower, where she told him what had happened and had him call in all of the guard. She stood over the gathering as if it were just a routine inspection, her eyes hunting for the same pair of eyes that had tipped her off in the first place. Bull grunted beside her. "He's not here."

"I know," she said softly, then turned to Cullen. "Pick out some men that have been with us for a long time, like pre-Haven, and have them search the grounds in pairs. Anyone not where they should be is to be detained."

"Right away, Cirilla," he agreed and went about his business.

"While they're hunting, let's go talk to Leliana and get the mess in my quarters cleaned up," Cirilla said, nudging Bull so he would follow her. She crept through the deserted main hall, the braziers that she had thought would be so bright only serving to cast dancing shadows of doubt along the walls around them. She met every door with caution, pushing her way into the solarium where Solas had finished his latest painting of the destruction of Haven. Up the spiraling staircase, they came out in Dorian's library, where the shelves were now nearly filled to the brim and all of the boxes she had helped him open up were gone. She avoided the darkened hollows between the shelves and took a sharp right at the top of the stairs to get to the second flight that would lead her up to the rookery. It was still barely evening and Leliana would still be at her table. She gazed up at them with a smile as they crested the landing.

"We've got a problem, Red," Bull said as he inspected the rookery before laying his eye on her.

Leliana tipped her head to listen. "The House of Repose paid me a visit this evening."

The spymaster gasped and set her quill down to stand. "Who it the Maker's name would want you dead?"

"Do you remember the boy who died at Haven? Beirand?" Leliana nodded slowly as Cirilla continued. "As you know, his uncle was my patron before the Conclave. My best guess is that after he tasked me with reporting back and I never sent him a single word to even let him know I was alive, he's likely a bit miffed. I had to murder someone to simply get Beirand out of the country, and now he's dead. I'd say I failed my mission and my rise to power smells a lot like betrayal if you're Anselmo."

"I'm surprised it's taken him this long," Leliana agreed with a small chuckle.

Cirilla grinned. "He likely did it because he thought I wouldn't see it coming after all this time. Annie is anything but stupid."

"I will post extra security around you and those close to you while I investigate. You will be leaving again, once Hawke returns. Once the army is marching, it is unlikely you will be attacked directly. I would ask Cole to keep his ears open for anyone who might be inwardly wishing you harm," Leliana suggested.

"Thank you, Leliana."

Cirilla and Bull left the rookery. "You know, Kadan. With that mess in your room, we won't be able to go back there tonight."

She turned and walked backwards in front of him with a smirk. "I'm sure we can find somewhere cozy to bed down for the night." She had done a lot of exploring while she was helping to renovate the castle when they had first arrived. She took his hand and led him through the main hall and toward Josie's office. Before the door into her office, there was a second door to the left that led down into the bowels of the castle. The air was mildly stuffy as they descended the narrow stone stairs and Bull grumbled, but did not openly complain. The smell of the kitchens wafted through the small meeting hall that had been left empty until they could find a use for it, and Cirilla continued through the room and directly ahead to where she had previously uncovered a narrow room lined with heavily laden bookshelves. Most of the reading materials seemed to be magical in nature and she had meant to show it to Dorian, but had never gotten around to it.

Much like Dorian's little nook in the library, there were pillows and lush carpets at the far end of the room so one could pick out a book and get comfortable for hours of reading. Candles burned softly in candleabrums in the corners. She locked the door behind them and Bull glanced around appraisingly. "Well, at least it's secluded."

She hopped up on the small desk at the back of the room and crossed her legs before leaning back on her palms. "Are you going to make good on the promises you made me earlier?"

His eye flicked to her and he crossed the small room. She felt trapped behind his large frame standing between the bookshelves. He was almost too large for the room. Her heart fluttered and her stomach clenched as he set his palms flat on either side of her atop the desk. She uncrossed her legs and moved to wrap them around him and pull him closer, but he swiftly grabbed her hips and yanked her toward him so her elbows buckled and her back hit the desk, drawing a gasp from her mouth.

One of his hands shoved beneath her tunic to squeeze her breast hard, as the other tugged at the loose breeches she was wearing. He was swift in disrobing her, leaving her exposed as he used one of the leather wrist-guards around his own wrist to secure her hands together. He stepped back to admire her trussed up and naked before moving to one of the standing candleabrums and taking a burning candle from it's place. He set it beside her and picked up her tunic from where he had discarded it and draped it around her eyes, blinding her to anything that happened around her. He tied the sleeves tightly so she couldn't wriggle it loose and when she tried it anyway, he pushed her to her side and scolded her with a sharp smack to her backside. She cried out in both pain and pleasure with the stinging. She could feel the outline of his fingers beginning to welt where they had landed. There would be a hand print there for a few days. She hissed as he rolled her back onto her back. Her arms were lifted from where they were bound against her chest and she felt him improvise once again to lash her to the heavy chair behind the desk by tucking his belt between her forearms and securing it as tightly as he could.

There was a moment of uncertainty as she tried to listen around the tunic secured around her head, before the scalding wax dripped onto the skin just above her navel. She gasped and wriggled, causing the wax to slither along her flesh in a few directions as he continued to allow it to drip from the candle. He moved up her body, dripping some between her breasts which trickled down beneath the soft mounds. The heat of the wax and the chill in the room collided in her core as she emitted soft whimpers of protest each time the slowly hardening substance touched her flesh. Her nipples followed suit, hardening to points. Bull paused what he was doing with the candle and she felt him lean against her, parting her legs so he was standing between them before he bent over her, draping himself atop her so he could take her hardened nipples in his mouth, one at a time and bite down until she was nearly bleeding. She cried out with each compression of his teeth as at the same time, he grazed up against her sex, drawing moisture with barely a caress. Then he grabbed at her breasts again, his callused palms scraping over the teeth marks. The safe word he had given her clicked over in her mind as the pain registered. She bit her lip and arched her back as he squeezed again. Her breath came out in a cry, "Ka...." she bit back the word, tasting the ease in which she could be free of the aching muscles of her shoulders and the terrifying blindness. Release was too easy. Bull paused briefly to see if she finished, but she inched against him and he took the cue, continuing as he had been and squeezing. This time, the moan came with pleasure and the pain slipped away to build between her thighs.

He tugged her closer to him, wrenching her shoulders further above her head and then he lifted her legs upwards. He ran a palm over the hand-print he had left on her cheek and then squeezed that as well, adding more sensation to the building pleasure in her core. Her legs began to tremble as he held them aloft, his roving hand slipping between them to spread the slickness that was escaping at his ministrations. With only the sensation of his touch available to her, she gasped in surprise as he parted her legs and pushed his way inside abruptly. The angle filled her before he was all of the way in, but he continued to push, pressing against her. She moaned and closed her fists, helpless to shift to an easier to take angle. He stayed still, sheathed in her for a short span of time as he ran his hands up and down her legs as her thighs threatened to collapse. She felt his lips on the skin of her legs as he kissed them both wherever he could reach. He rested her ankles on his shoulders and took hold of her knees to keep her legs from giving way. Then he drug himself back so he had nearly left her before slamming into her again. With each thrust, the pressure built and he bumped her heavily against the desk, her breasts jarring with pain as they shook with the movement until he reached down to grab at them some more. Sweat was leaking from her pores and it burned where small patches of the dried wax had chipped away.

Her mind gathered the sensations and took all of the pain and drew it inwards. She had asked for this, agreed to it, and he was giving her everything she craved. His perfect rythm as he bumped against her soon built all of the pressure to a crescendo. Her loins were aching as he caressed over and over that spot along her back wall, tickling through her and tightening her muscles. Finally she cried out, the dam bursting. She fought her bindings, the struggle to get her hands on him, spreading the burst of pleasure throughout her entire body. He continued to thrust against her, prolonging the pleasure into a teeth grinding wave of sensation that had her struggling again to free her legs and escape the pleasure that had her dripping down her backside and onto the desk beneath. He grunted, pulling free and drawing another groan of half pain from her throat as he spilled himself onto her stomach, the warmth of his fluids stinging the wax burns again. He assisted her in letting her legs drop to dangle uselessly from the edge of the desk. "You good?" he asked tentatively, reaching up to pull the makeshift blindfold from her eyes.

She chuckled huskily and writhed as he brushed against her to release her arms. "I'll let you know when I can feel my legs again. If the House of Repose had any sense, they would strike now. I couldn't fight back if I wanted to."

He read the smile of satisfaction on her face and returned it with a grin. "You're just lucky this desk is sturdier than it looks."

He helped her onto her shaky legs and they moved toward the dusty pillows to slap them clean before nesting among them. She curled up against him and sighed in pleasure. "Nothing like being attacked right before bed to get your adrenaline pumping."

The next three days were fraught with anxiety and too many guards. Everywhere Cirilla went, there were two armed shadows at her back. Josie had seen to having her room cleaned up, but there was a guard posted on each of her balconies and one outside her door in the throne room, leaving her with zero privacy. She shuffled her way to the war room to take a look at her fresh stacks of reports and rolled her eyes to see that there was another guard situated among the bricks piled up against the broken wall. She paused to regard the man who stood straighter as she approached. "What's your name?" she asked him, making him flick his gaze to her briefly before returning to his respectful stare in any direction but at her.

His eyes were wide. "Bevin, your worship."

He looked young, maybe twenty if she guessed high. She sighed. "I think I'll be doing my paperwork in the war room today. Why don't you go with Brom and Velen, here, and have some lunch." The guards in succession attempted to protest, but she held up her marked hand as a sign of authority. "I can't breathe, guys. Please."

They backed down, unwillingly, and headed back the way they had come. She placed a hand on the dagger at her hip and slowly pushed open the war room door. She immediately spotted Cullen in his usual place behind the map table and he glanced up with his amber eyes to appraise her before she closed the door and leaned against it, closing her eyes and banging her head on it dramatically. Cullen chuckled softly. "Not enjoying your entourage?"

"Let's just say I'll be glad when Leliana is able to confirm whether or not Anselmo is behind this," she grumbled, pushing away from the door to approach the war table and acept the few sheets of paper he handed her. "Any news on the Red templars."

"Yes, actually," Cullen responded. "Those reports you brought back from the Graves led us to a quarry near a village called Sahrnia in Emprise Du Lion." She cringed at his pronunciation as he offered her the report. "I've sent Harding ahead to appraise the situation so you will be prepared."

"Great." She leaned her rear on the table and began to flip through the papers left for her. He watched her with an arched brow.

"I've never seen you prepare your reports in the war room before, Ciri," he prodded, straightening and resting his palms casually on his sword hilt.

She glanced at him over the parchment she was reading. "I'm fairly certain this is the most secure room in the entire keep, and I need a bit of time guard free. I've sent them to lunch."

Cullen chuckled again. "Is it lunch time already? I've been here all morning."

She joined his chuckle with a snort of her own and then flapped her papers at him. "Then I'm sending you to lunch, too. Take an hour to recharge. It'll be good for you." She knew that Cullen had a hard time sleeping because of his withdrawal symptoms since he had stopped taking lyrium. She also knew that saying anything directly would be a challenge, so she shooed him again and continued. "I have it on good authority that Dorian likes Ferelden Beer, though you didn't hear it from me."

Cullen opened his mouth to sputter out a denial, but when she raised her brow and smirked at him, his cheeks reddened. "How did you...?" he sighed and one of his hands raised to rub nervously at the back of his neck.

She smiled sweetly. "Cullen, I am a bard. Nobody needs to tell me anything around here. Chances are I already know."

"Andraste preserve me," he mumbled, fidgeting. She remained quiet as he worked out what he wanted to say next, reading through her papers and beginning to sort them. "Can I ask you something?"

"Aren't you supposed to be _my_ adviser?" she teased jokingly as she looked up to meet his eyes. He was clearly confused and out of his element.

He allowed himself a purse of his lips that slowly turned to a smile before he cleared his throat. "Clearly you are used to... unconventional relationships... how do you...?" he paused again, searching for the right question. "Approach the question?"

She smiled and set her papers down. "Cullen, what really matters is whether or not you're both interested. Clearly, there is something there if you feel confident enough to ask me about it. From your reaction, I am assuming this is the first time you've found yourself attracted to another man?" He nodded slowly. "Dorian is a handsome man, and in spite of him being a mage, he is a good person. You didn't hear _that_ from me, either. I will also tell you that you both come with a lot of baggage that you will need to sift through, but that might be a good thing to build on. No relationship comes without rough spots. It's how you work through them together that make it strong."

"This all seems to come so easy to you," he said in awe as she finished. "Not only romantic relationships, but you are... dangerously charming."

She shrugged. "It was my job." She reached out and took his hand. "_Talk_ to Dorian. Be honest. I'm sure he'll understand. Beneath all of that leather and jewels, he's a big softie." She patted his hand with her other one and then let it go as he thanked her with a nervous smile. "Now go, before lunch is over... Ferelden Beer."

Cullen chuckled and ran a hand through his hair, dislodging one of his carefully tamed curls so it hung over his forehead. "Right. Thank you, Ciri."

Cullen left and the war room fell quiet after the second door to Josie's office clanged shut. Cirilla gazed around the serene room full of magic and took up her papers again. She was there for quite some time, working at her own pace. Eventually, she was humming and swaying around the room as she worked. Suddenly, the outer door clattered softly and she stopped her movement to allow the intruder to approach, her eyes fixed on the door. Her casual hum turned to an enchanted song that she breathed life into. As the door came open, the war table was between her and the person entering. Her hand yanked a dagger free that was holding down a corner of one of the smaller hand drawn maps and she flung it toward the door so that it lodged centimeters from his face. A warning. "You missed," Bull teased as he looked from her to the knife and then pulled it free of the wood.

She crossed her arms and cocked a hip, smirking. "Good thing for you," she teased right back. It became painfully obvious as he approached that it had been days since their night in the magical library.

He rounded the war table and she twisted her body to follow, placing her rear on the edge of the table. Her breath caught as without preamble, he gripped her hips and lifted her up to set her down on the pile of papers and maps. "You seem stressed, Kadan. You aren't getting what you need." He leaned over her, breathing on her neck before sliding a hand into her hair and giving it a sharp tug. She gasped as her heart began to race. As he began to rove his hands over her curves and place bites and kisses along her clavicle, she lost all ability to reason. She should have protested. Should have told him 'not here', but something about the room making it easy for them to be caught made her heart race that much quicker and her loins throb that much harder. She moaned as he reached down her pants and began to circle his fingertips around her edges. She rolled her hips as he slipped those same fingers deep inside and began to work his magic. He pulled her against him, allowing her to bury her face in his neck and bite down around the sounds she made for him as he artfully brought her to completion right there on the war table. "Any better?" he hummed in satisfaction as her muscles began to relax and he slid his hand free.

"Sweet Maker," she said softly around the heartbeat in her throat. "Yes."


	10. Oh, Grey Warden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cirilla steps out of the frying pan and into the fire.

Finally, she was free of Skyhold and free of her extra guards. In their place, she was surrounded by her inner circle as they marched with the army toward the Abyssal Ledge where the ancient Warden Fortress of Adamant stood. Hawke had returned with his report just a week prior. The diplomats she had sent to Jader had worked miracles and the Inquisition was now the proud allies of one Lady Seryl who was 'pleased' to lend them her trebuchets to help the army get past the old walls.

She rode in the middle, sandwiched between Blackwall and Cassandra. She could feel Cole at her back, hovering to warn her should anyone wish her harm. Spread out around her was the rest. Dorian was riding discreetly beside Cullen and they talked quietly, both with secret smiles hidden behind the amiable conversation. Solas was by himself, riding to Cassandra's right and keeping quiet, much like the stoic Blackwall. Her regular party, Bull, Varric and Sera were ahead. Bull was jokingly begging Varric to allow him to toss him into battle so he could throw down a smoke bomb and set traps before taking a leaping shot back to the back-line. Sera giggled when Varric refused and then loudly added her own idea of standing on Bull's horns so she could shoot from above like she was shooting from a horse. The conversation ended with them both shouting 'Mayhem!' with glee and Varric kicking his pony forward so he could ride beside Hawke, who promptly chuckled loudly and backed the tossing Varric plan with vigor. "I wish Aveline would have thought of that plan. We could have easily thrown you and Bianca past so many of the nasty little glyph traps set by the crazy mages in Kirkwall."

"Or into the mouth of a dragon," Varric reminded him with a grumble. Cassandra cleared her throat and when Cirilla glanced at her, the Seeker was smiling behind her hand.

Hawke waved his hand dramatically. "Aveline was never around for any of the dragon fights."

Varric rolled his eyes. "Missed all the fun, that one."

The entire journey to Adamant was much the same, until the day they were approaching the fortress. Tensions rose, and Cirilla put herself with Bull, Varric and Sera as they others fell back to assist with the siege and Cullen rode ahead to join the army. She glanced back at Dorian and watched his fingers wave discreetly and a barrier hummed up around the receding Commander. It was a credit to Cullen that he didn't so much as flinch as the magic settled around him.

A rhythmic banging sounded over the din of the clattering trebuchets, shouting soldiers and the ladders rising up to latch onto the battlements and allow them access from above. She saw Hawke slip from his horse and disappear into the crowd. She got down from her own Forder and handed the reins off to a squire before checking her weapons and potions. All of her throwing knives were in place, and she unsheathed her daggers. Dagna had fashioned her a quirky little device that was activated by runes that she simply needed to touch and utter a word 'Isana', which she was informed was the dwarven word for Lyrium. When she spoke the word, the runes activated and spread poison along her blades as she drew them from their sheathes. Once the blades were free, the runes deactivated on their own with not a single drop of poison leaking from the caches hidden in her belt.

The banging ended in a crescendo as the four of them approached the heavy metal gates that barred their entrance into the fortress. The battering ram swung back one final time and the gates crumpled inwards. Cirilla flowed in with the rest of the soldiers and Stroud was on her heels. The Wardens fought back tirelessly, trying to stem the flow of her army as they breached the walls. After the Wardens in the entry way were dead, the rest of the army poured in and Cullen joined her to give a brief rundown of the situation so far.

She needed to climb to the battlements and try to break up the resistance there so more of their soldiers could get in via the ladders. Trying to funnel them all in through the main gate could take time they didn't have. She and her small party, along with Stroud, made their way inwards. They met the first set of sympathetic Wardens in a bailey, trying to fend off a few of their own. Mages already too far gone to save. "Stay back! We will not be sacrificed for some insane ritual!" One of the warriors shouted.

They continued to plead as the mages attacked. Cirilla jumped to action as Stroud shouted. "It's no use! Their minds are not their own!"

They helped the Wardens slay their own, but the warriors brandished swords when they approached after the mages were dead. "Everyone just stay back! Keep your distance!"

Cirilla turned her daggers away from the Wardens and held her palms up in placation. "The Inquisition is here to stop Clarel, not to kill Wardens. If you fall back, you won't be harmed."

The man who had threatened her drew back, looking astonished. "All right. My men will stay back. We want no part of this. Deal with Clarel as you must."

"Well said," Stroud praised as they continued forward toward the battlements. "I had hoped some of the Wardens would listen to reason."

It was hard fought through the keep and across the battlements to reach Clarel. They picked up Hawke along the way and he reported that Cullen had the soldiers holding back the Wardens from doing anything more stupid than they already had. They made their way as a group into the main courtyard where Clarel was standing atop a platform with another Warden and Erimond. Both Clarel and the other Warden were in their fifties at least, sharing graying hair that was shorn close to their heads. Clarel was a mage, from the style of her Warden armor and the staff on her back. The man a warrior. She had just finished slitting his throat and laid him gently upon a table at the edge of the platform. In the middle of the courtyard below Clarel, more Wardens were crowded around a massive rift, larger than the one she had closed in the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Some looked frightened, others determined, and all of the mages looked dazed. From the small plethora of demons that hovered nearby, it was obvious why.

"Stop them!" Erimond yelled as he saw them entering. "We must complete the ritual!"

Cirilla allowed the Wardens to see her hold back her people with a gesture as they turned and she took a few bold steps closer to the group of warriors and rogues. She pitched her voice so it rang loud and clear across the bailey, even over the sound of the rift. "Clarel, if you complete that ritual, you're doing exactly what Erimond wants," Cirilla began.

Erimond interrupted her before she could continue, making her remove her pleading gaze from Clarel and turn a glare on the Magister. "What, fighting the Blight? Keeping the world safe from Darkspawn? Who wouldn't want that?" As he spoke, Cirilla returned her gaze to Clarel to gauge her reaction. She looked saddened, but remained silent. "And yes, the ritual requires blood sacrifice. Hate me for that if you must, but do not hate the Wardens for doing their duty."

"We make the sacrifices no one else will. Our warriors die proudly for a world that will never thank them," Clarel added.

Stroud spoke up then, "And then your Tevinter ally binds the mages to Corypheus!"

"Corypheus?" Clarel gasped. "But he's dead."

"These people will say anything to shake your confidence, Clarel," Erimond growled.

Clarel rubbed at her forehead and for a brief moment, Cirilla hoped she might see reason. Then she dropped her hand and ordered grimly. "Bring it through."

Erimond sneered in glee as the rift began to pop and crackle, the mages all adding their mana to help bring the demon on the other side through. Movement on both sides of the field had Cirilla surrounded by both her allies and the Wardens. Hawke growled from her side. "Please, I have seen more than my share of blood magic! It is never worth the cost!"

"I trained half of you myself!" Stroud added. "Do not make me kill you to stop this madness!"

They could hear the growling and snarling of the demon as it forced its way closer through the rift. "Be ready with the ritual, Clarel. This demon is truly worthy of your strength," Erimond encouraged.

Cirilla spoke up again, drawing on her knowledge and trying to make the Wardens see reason. "The Grey Wardens have a proud history! You stopped the Blight at the Silent Plains. At Starkhaven... and Hunter Fell. At Ayesleigh... and Denerim. This world owes you a debt it can never repay. I would not stand against you if I did not _know_ you were being misused."

With her words, many of the Wardens turned to look back at Clarel for direction. As the woman waffled, Erimond took his staff in hand and pleaded, "Clarel, we have come so far. You're the only one who can do this."

Clarel shook her head, unsure. "Perhaps we could test the truth of these charges, to avoid more bloodshed."

Cirilla's heart leapt, but Erimond snarled. "Or perhaps I should bring in a more reliable ally." He stepped toward the edge of the platform and tapped his staff rhythmically on the ground, red sparks jutting from where it struck the stone. "My master thought you might come here, Inquisitor! He sent me this to welcome you!"

From high above, the familiar echoing rumble of the Red lyrium dragon that Corypheus had debuted at Haven filled the air. She spotted it flying amidst the clouds before it swooped down. She dove out of the way, taking cover along with everyone else in it's path as it breathed death over the courtyard as it swept by over head. Then it rose back up and circled around, smashing one of the hundreds of griffon statues that lined the walls all around Adamant. Chunks of bronze and stone crumbled to the ground around them and the dragon settled itself atop the high walls behind Cirilla and her people, roaring noisily, it's wings outstretched in intimidation. Suddenly, Cirilla's attention was drawn from the dragon to see what made the hollow clattering sound on the platform. The dragon's head whipped toward the sound, too. Clarel was standing defiantly over Erimond, who was on the ground clutching his side, her staff gripped tightly in her hands that were wreathed in magical purple lightning.

"Clarel, wait," Erimond pleaded breathlessly as she set her sights on the dragon.

She tossed a bolt of lightning up at the dragon. Cirilla watched as the magic floated on the air and struck the dragon much like a dandelion fluff might strike Bull in his chest. The dragon responded with lightning of it's own, knocking Clarel off her feet. Cirilla saw Erimond getting up and grabbing his staff before fleeing for the nearest exit. Clarel got back to her feet and shouted to the Wardens remaining. "Help the Inquisitor!" Then she jumped the streak of lightning along the ground in front of her and gave chase to Erimond as the dragon took off and the demon the Wardens had been summoning made it's way through the rift.

"Balls," Cirilla cursed, getting to her feet to deal with the cluster-fuck all around her. The most pressing issue was the massive demon of pride that had just manifested from the rift. It began to attack indiscriminately, drawing all attention from the dragon circling overhead.

She drew her daggers, slathering them in poison and slipped among the Wardens, who to their credit weren't fleeing in terror, but helping just like Clarel had ordered. She slashed at the demon and then rolled away as it charged one of it's lightning whip attacks. As soon as she got to her feet, she was forced to roll again as the dragon swept overhead and unleashed more of it's fiery red lightning among the mass of bodies that were fighting. She watched three of the Wardens get caught in the blast and they fell, screaming and writhing, as the scent of burning flesh crept into her lungs. She swallowed a wave of nausea and waded back into the fray. The demon seemed to be bogged down by the Wardens, tripping over them as it tried to move around the shielded warriors and speedy rogues. It growled in frustration, but it was going down much more quickly than the one had in Haven. She took a few more slashes at it's legs, hitting as many fleshy weak spots as she could. "Drop!" she heard Bull shout and she knew he meant her. She immediately did as she was told, flattening herself on the ground so she could swing over her head. His ax bit into the demon's leg, right where she had opened it up with her daggers. It howled in pain and she rolled out of the way as it came crashing to it's knees. It's head whipped backwards as it's multiple sets of pinprick eyes were riddled with arrows and bolts from Varric and Sera. She pushed back to her feet and leapt onto it's arm, dancing up the jagged skin and bony protrusions to grab hold of one of it's massive horns. She wrapped her body around it and jumped back to the ground, dragging the demon's head with her. When her feet hit the ground, Bull let out a battle cry and rushed forward to swing his ax downward and cut clean through the demon's neck.

Cirilla let go of the horn as the body began to be swept back through the rift where it belonged. At a glance, the Wardens had spread out to fight the rest of the demons and the mages that had been bound to Corypheus already. "How do we get out of here?" Varric shouted over the din as he, Sera, Hawke and Stroud jogged up to where she stood with Bull.

She hopped into a jog in the direction that Clarel had chased Erimond. If she was lucky, they would catch them. They left the courtyard and followed the stairs up onto another set of battlements. They navigated through intermittent battles between Wardens and demons, and had to dodge fire from the dragon. As they passed through a narrow underpass along the outer wall, the dragon latched itself onto the wall itself and poked it's massive head through a hole in the structure to fill the space with fire. Cirilla stopped short, inches from the dragon with no where to go. She had seconds to warn her people back and duck down below the dragon's chin. As heat poured from it's throat, she could feel the vibration along her back of it's rumbling voice, and smell the distinct scent of charred and rotten flesh. She curled into the fetal position and draped her arms over her head, trapped between the wall of fire and the dragon's throat. She was tempted to reach out and jam her dagger into the flesh that was so close, but it would have been fruitless. Ten whole seconds passed as she huddled before she felt hands on her shoulders. "Are you all right?" Hawke asked as he helped her to her feet.

She nodded, catching Bull's eye that was wide in what looked like terror. "I'm fine. Let's go."

They didn't have to go much further. At the top of a climb around one of the towers, they found Clarel at the edge of a drop off in the structure that looked down over the Abyssal Rift itself. She was brandishing her staff at Erimond who writhed on the ground between them and her. "You could have served a new god," he coughed with a strained voice.

Clarel approached him in a casual stroll, her tone disgusted. "I will _never _serve the Blight!"

To her, it was finished. She had Erimond handled. As she raised her staff to take the final blow, the dragon dropped from the sky, startling Cirilla and wrapped it's jaws around Clarel before taking off again with her in it's mouth. Cirilla tracked it as it flew around them to land atop one of the over-watch towers behind them. Cursing their position, Cirilla backed up past the huddling Erimond as the dragon shook it's head like a dog with a bone, gnashing it's teeth before tossing Clarel aside, broken and bloodied. She landed in front of Cirilla. Her breathing was labored and Cirilla could hear the blood filling her lungs with each gasp of air she took in. Clarel, however, could not be her priority. The dragon was now advancing, climbing down the tower and prowling closer and closer to her and her people. They had nowhere to go. The Warden Commander was muttering as the dragon got closer and closer. Her voice rose with each pronunciation. Her final words allowed Cirilla to realize that she had been reciting the Warden's motto. "In death, sacrifice!"

Just as the dragon leapt for Cirilla, a blast of magic erupted from Clarel where she laid dying beneath it's belly. The lightning struck the dragon as it pounced and knocked it powerfully off course. Cirilla ducked beneath it's rolling body, one of it's wings whipping around and creating a blast of wind that nearly knocked her off her feet as it passed over head. It crashed hard on the edge of the overhang they were standing on. The weight of the dragon cracked the stone and mortar. As it righted itself and took off with an angry shriek, the push off of it's weight turned the cracks into fissures and the whole ground below them began to crumble. Cirilla scrambled away from the edge, barely grabbing purchase as the ground rumbled. She glanced behind her and growled in frustration as she saw Stround stumble as the ground fell out from under him. She turned and grabbed hold of him to pull him back to the relative safety of the still cracking and crumbling stone. They ran, but it was useless. Cirilla felt her stomach plummet as everything that was under her feet gave way and she started to fall. She twisted in the air, changing her perspective. The great maw of the Abyssal Rift was opened wide beneath her. The fleeting thought, gave her an idea. She controlled the Anchor. As she plummeted, she reached below toward the darkness of the ledge. She activated the mark, drawing the Fade to her. Beneath them, she opened her own rift, large enough to catch her and her people before they fell to their deaths. She curled up around herself as she passed through the tear in the veil she had created. Immediately, the air was different and her stomach lurched as she realized she was still falling. Dampness filled her lungs as she gasped in terror, crossing her arms in front of her to block out the image of the seemingly endless sky she was falling into. She had a brief moment of sympathy for the Orzammar dwarves that came to the surface, afraid of falling up into the sky before the world flipped around her. Her stomach lurched again, rising to her throat before plummeting back down. Now instead of falling up, she was falling toward a very rocky looking ground. Just before she collided face first with it, she lurched to a halt. Curiously, she tipped her head and reached out with her marked hand toward the ground. She could barely touch it with her finger, and as soon as it touched, her floating ceased and she crumbled to the ground with an 'oof'. Similar noises from her companions sounded all around her as she slowly rolled to her knees and got to her feet.

Everything around had a greenish hue, and the rules of physics meant nothing. Rocks and boulders floated high above the ground, severed from strange looking statues that were all in various stages of crumbling. Around her feet, the same was happening with small stones and pebbles, connected to the ground with little sparks of magic that flickered in and out. Everything in sight was wet, giving the place a slimy vibe and making her wonder how the torches and candles she could see were still burning despite the moisture. As her eyes took in the strangely fascinating sights all around, she hunted her people. Bull, Sera and Varric were getting to their feet not far from her, their own expressions confused and concerned, but before she could find where Hawke and Stroud had landed, she heard a voice.

"Where are we?" Her eyes were drawn upwards to the space just above her head. For a moment, she experienced a slight vertigo sensation as she looked at Stroud who was rather casually standing on the side of a rock, perpendicular to the rest of them. She already hated the Fade.

As she craned her neck to look at Stroud, another voice joined them and Stroud craned his own neck to look 'above' him to where Hawke was in a worse state, nearly upside down on this own outcropping. "We were falling." His tone was disoriented and he moved in small circles, looking around at everything that was wrong around him. "Is this... are we dead?"

"No," Stroud said before anyone else could respond. "The Inquisitor used the mark to open another rift. We fell through. I believe we are in the Fade."

After a brief inspection, Hawke grumbled. "The Fade looked much different the last time I was here. Perhaps it's because we're here physically, instead of just dreaming." He turned to look down at Cirilla whose neck was craned so she could look up at him. "The stories say you walked out of the Fade at Haven. Was it like this?"

Cirilla dropped her eyes to look around again, her neck and her brain hurting to look at the two men standing at impossible angles. "I don't know," she admitted. "I still don't remember what happened the last time I did this." She shuffled forward, her feet meeting resistance in the uneven ground and plentiful puddles.

"Well," Hawke said. "Whatever happened at Haven, we can't assume we're safe now. That huge demon was on the other side of that rift Erimond was using, and there could be others."

With Hawke's declaration, Sera lost her shit. "Shitballs, fuck, shit, crap, Fade, shit, arse, demons, crap!" Varric approached her and put a hand on her elbow in comfort as she breathed noisily around her panic attack.

"What she said," Bull agreed with a deep rumble of disapproval. Then he set his eye on Cirilla. "I'll fight whatever you give me, boss, but nobody said nothing about getting dragged through the ass end of demon town."

Before she could respond, Stroud spoke up. "In our world, the rift the demons came through was nearby. In the main hall. Can we escape the same way?"

Cirilla set her sights further than her immediate surroundings and in the completely green sky, she noted at a distance, the Fade reflection of the Breach. Directly beneath it was what could only be the Black City. It was said to be visible from everywhere in the Fade, but unreachable, no matter how long you walked toward it. She wondered if the same were true in the actual physical Fade. Shaking off her curiosity, she looked for a way out. They had fallen a great distance, but she could see vaguely familiar structures that might represent bits and pieces of a twisted version of Adamant. Again, they had fallen, so the logical thing to do was climb to reach the rift. She sighed heavily as her eyes caught sight of a tall staircase ahead of them. She pointed. "There. Let's go."

She started forward, hearing a couple of grunts and splashing feet as Hawke and Stroud found their way off their gravity defying perches to join them. Bull began to grumble from the rear of the group, his voice pitched and high to imitate Krem. " 'Hey Chief! Let's join the Inquisition! Good fights for a good cause!' I don't know, Krem. I hear there are demons. 'AH, don't worry about the demons, Chief! I'm sure we won't see many!' " He paused to grumble under his breath and then growled. "Asshole... Everyone, if I get possessed, feint on my blind side, then go low. Cullen says I leave myself open."

Cirilla fell back to give his hand a light and reassuring squeeze which he allowed briefly before letting go to take his ax in his hands and keep it at the ready. As they sloughed through the ankle deep water, curious wisps fluttered around them, trying to make sense of the living beings traipsing through their realm. Cirilla was amazed that Sera had not melted into a puddle with the way she shuddered, her head on a swivel. The spirits seemed to sense her unease and gave her a wide berth, avoiding Bull as well after he swiped at a few of them like buzzing flies. Other spirits were less benign, attacking them when they got close enough. They didn't make it far past the top of the tall staircase before Cirilla looked up and gasped in surprise as before her, clear as day, stood Divine Justinia. It was the woman to a T. Her same sweet but devious smile, her same bright eyes, her same unblemished white and red robes. Cirilla's eyes narrowed. There was no way. "By the Maker, could that be?" Stroud whispered, putting Cirilla's thoughts into words that she couldn't seem to make her voice say.

Justinia's eyes left hers and turned to Stroud. "I greet you Warden." Then, she set the smile on Hawke. "And you, Champion."

"Divine Justinia..." Cirilla managed to get her voice to work, but her eyes were still wide and her heart was racing. A touch of the faith she had lost fluttered through her stomach as she gazed at the woman. "From the little I remember of what happened at Haven, I thought you were dead." She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry.

"I fear the Divine is indeed dead," Stroud said gently. "It is likely we face a spirit... or a demon."

The Divine gave off a small chuckle that made Cirilla believe just a little bit more. "You think my survival impossible, yet here you stand alive in the Fade yourselves. In truth, proving my existence either way would require time we do not have."

Hawke spoke next. "Surely you can understand our concerns and explain what you are."

"I am here to help you," Justinia said simply. Then she looked back at Cirilla. "You do not remember what happened at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, Inquisitor."

"No, I don't," she agreed slowly, catching on that she had just been called Inquisitor by a woman who by no means should know she had that title.

"The memories you have lost were taken by the demon that serves Corypheus. It is the Nightmare you forget upon waking. It feeds off memories of fear and darkness, growing fat upon the terror. The false Calling that terrified the Wardens into making such grave mistakes? Its work."

"I would gladly avenge the insult this Nightmare dealt my brethren," Stroud growled.

"You will have your chance, brave Warden. This place of darkness is its lair," Justinia explained.

"The big demon Erimond was trying to bring through? It's nearby?" Cirilla asked, her stomach clenching.

"Yes," Justinia confirmed.

"Well, shit," she mumbled and Sera whimpered.

"When you entered the Fade at Haven, the demon took a part of you. Before you do anything else, you must recover it." Justinia looked to the side and Cirilla noticed the small wraiths hovering seemingly harmlessly along the path. When she set her eyes on them, they called to her, drawing her nearer. "These are you memories, Inquisitor."

She approached the nearest one, but when she got close enough to touch it, it flitted away and released a burst of energy that seared her skin where it touched her. She cried out and drew a throwing knife to flick it at the wraith. As the wraith died, it left behind a small orb of magic. Heedless of the others killing the other three that hovered nearby, she approached the orb, reaching out with her marked hand as if in a trance. The Anchor reacted much like it did near a rift, opening to tug on the magic and flood her senses with it. Echoes of her memories burst forth as the orb disappeared and she stumbled to the next one, her head throbbing. Each orb she drew in, shouted in her head until the final one joined them, playing out the scene in her head and making her double over, clutching her forehead against the sharp stabbing pain.

_She heard noises on the other side of a door. She recognized the hallway as belonging in the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Cries for help echoed from beyond. She pushed open the door and saw the Divine suspended in mid air by magic. All around her in a circle there were mages, dressed in the robes of the Grey Wardens, casting the spell that was keeping her in place. Before her stood Corypheus, the orb he had extended toward her chest. The sickly red and green magic seeped from the orb and headed for Justinia. The sound of the door and Cirilla's outraged shout, "What's going on here?" drew his attention. The Divine struggled in her bonds and reached her arm around to slap the orb from his hand. Cirilla jumped into action, reaching down to grab the rolling object. When it touched her palm, pain exploded and magic ripped into her, building to agonizing levels and begging to be released as Corypheus bore down on her. Finally as he was right on top of her, the magic exploded, blowing them all back and making Cirilla drop the orb._

As the vision ended, Cirilla gasped and fumbled for purchase, resting her palms on her knees to keep from falling over. The others all looked similarly affected. "So your mark did not come from Andraste," Stroud said almost sadly, making her cringe as well. For a brief moment, she had deigned to hope again. "It came from the orb Corypheus used in his ritual."

"Corypheus intended to rip open the Veil, use the Anchor to enter the Fade, and throw open the doors of the Black City," Justinia explained. "Not for the Old Gods, but for himself. When you disrupted his plan, the orb bestowed the Anchor upon you instead."

"That's it?" Cirilla growled in anger. They had been there not even ten minutes and her faith had been tested and shot down too much already. She had deep down hoped that recovering her memories would give her a renewed sense of belief.

"Yes," Justinia said simply.

Cirilla could have punched something. "That tells me nothing! Not about Corypheus or a weakness for the demon... or even a way out of here! All it tells me is that I should break his damned orb next time it starts glowing!"

"Yet even that information may one day help you," Justinia answered her outrage with a calm tone. "You cannot escape the lair of the nightmare until you regain all that it took from you. You have recovered some of yourself, but now it knows you are here. You must make haste. I will prepare the way ahead." When Cirilla closed her eyes to sigh, the Divine disappeared. Obviously she was not what she pretended to be.

"Something troubles you, Hawke?" Stroud asked gently.

Cirilla glanced at Hawke, who was indeed sneering. "Those were Grey Wardens holding the Divine in that vision. Their actions led to her death."

"I assumed he had taken their minds, as you have seen him do before," Stroud said, matching Hawke's glare with a frown. "Come, we can argue after we escape this dark place.

"Oh, I intend to," Hawke assured him, falling in beside Cirilla as she pushed forward.

After a moment, Sera spoke up, her voice trembling. "The Divine... Please say that was her. It _was_ her, right?"

"I do not know," Stroud said calmly. "We have survived thus far. Perhaps she did as well. She seems interested in helping us. That much is clear."

"That's great and all," Bull grumbled. "But the Nightmare is the thing currently scaring the shit outta me."

"Sounds like it preys on fear," Varric pointed out. "Stealing people's memories, that's low, even for a demon. Memories make us what we are. A monster that takes them away? I don't want to think about that."

"After what it did to my fellow Wardens, I pray we find some way to strike it down,  
Stroud agreed.

They didn't get far before the Nightmare itself made its presence known. "Ah, we have a visitor," a voice boomed out as if coming from a giant. It continued to speak as demons poured in around them to block their path. "Some silly little girl comes to steal the fear I kindly lifted from her shoulders. You should have thanked me and left your fear where it lay, forgotten. You think that pain will make you stronger? What fool filled your mind with such drivel? The only one who grows stronger from your fears is _me_. But you are a guest here in my home, so by all means, let me return what you have forgotten."

When the last of the little demons fell and the voice stopped taunting for a moment, Sera giggled nervously."That's it, right? Not so bad. You're not so bad!" She shouted the last part, asserting herself to hide that she was trembling.

Cirilla felt for her, and for Bull as well. Neither of them was taking this very well. Stroud interrupted. "These foes are likely but servants of the true demon."

"Just let me have this moment to hope, all right?" Bull grumbled, stepping closer to Cirilla's side. He walked nearly on top of her, his ax clutched tightly in his hands until they started down another set of natural stairs. "What the crap are those supposed to be!"

Cirilla saw the spiders, the size of puppies, careening from above on silken webs. She shuddered as their eight legs landed on the squishy terrain and they came after her and her people. Spiders were by far her least favorite thing in perhaps the entirety of Thedas. Especially the big ones. She charged at the nearest one, Bull slamming his ax down on top of a second one to her left. She stabbed for it's pincers, praying it wasn't poisoned. It's bite missed her and her dagger slipped between it's dozens of eyes. Trying not to let her skin crawl, she glanced around and saw the others had handled the few that had attacked.

They continued forward and the Nightmare decided to make itself known again as they fought another horde of demons. "Perhaps _I_ should be afraid, facing the most powerful members of the Inquisition." it chuckled deviously then picked Bull out of the crowd. "The Qunari will make a lovely host for one of my minions. Or maybe I will ride his body myself."

"I'd like to see you try," Bull growled to himself.

He was not the only one singled out. Everyone had their turn. "Sera, Sera Sera... If you shoot an arrow at me, I'll know where you are."

"Out of my head, bitch-balls," she wailed angrily.

"Once again, Hawke is in danger because of you, Varric. You found the red lyrium. You brought Hawke here..."

"Just keep talking, smiley," Varric mumbled.

"Did you think you mattered, Hawke? Did you think anything you ever did mattered? You couldn't even save your city. How could you expect to strike down a god? Isabela is going to die, just like your family and everyone you ever cared about."

"It's a fear demon," Hawke said calmly. "Of course it would know how to hurt us. We must ignore it." That was easy for him to say. When the next set of spiders fell Cirilla again killed them as quickly as she could, shaking ichor from her blades as Hawke said, "Those must have been smaller fears, servants of the Nightmare. And they take the form of spiders, something so many fear."

Sera's eyes widened. "Didn't see no spiders. I'd have taken bloody spiders!"

Hawke hummed in thought. "The demons look different to all of us. They take on the appearance of something we fear."

"Well, now I feel better," Bull grumbled, his eye rolling with sarcasm.

Cirilla had little time to wonder what it was Bull might be seeing when the Divine appeared again. "The Nightmare is closer now. It knows you seek escape. With each moment, it grows stronger." She held her arm out, indicating more of the wraiths that held her memories. She collected them as before, bracing herself for the agony as the memories shoved their way back inside her.

_She watched herself and the Divine running for their lives through the Fade from demons similar to the spiders she now faced. They made it to the top of a ridiculously steep set of stairs where a large rift stood open. She urged Justinia forward, but the older woman fell behind. Cirilla turned to take her hand and help her, but she was grabbed by her robes by the grasping hands of many more demons. Justinia patted her hand, urged her to flee, and let go. She was ripped from Cirilla's hands and the spiders bore down on her. All she could do was run for the rift._

Cirilla shook her head as the memory faded, then a realization struck her as she glanced at Justinia standing before her. "It was you... They thought it was Andraste sending me from the Fade, but it was the Divine behind me. And then you... she died." She felt her throat closing as tears threatened. She realized that deep down, even if she did not believe any more, she still wanted to. She had grown up with such strong faith, that she was loathe to release it.

"Yes," Justinia said softly, her own face stricken.

"So this creature is simply a spirit," Stroud observed.

"I think we all knew that was the case, Warden," Hawke agreed with venom.

"I am sorry if I disappoint you," Justinia said sadly, making Hawke's expression soften to one of guilt and sadness. Then she closed her eyes and the face of the Divine was enveloped in a bright yellow glow that spread throughout her body, turning her from the Divine into a floating spirit that glowed as brightly as the sun, the relative shape of a person wearing the Divine's tall hat remaining.

When her eyes recovered and Cirilla was able to look upon the spirit, she gasped. "Are you... her? Did you linger here to help me, instead of passing on?"

Cirilla sensed a smile on the too bright face. "If that is the story you wish to tell, it is not a bad one." She still spoke in the Divine's gentle Orlesian accent.

"What we do know," Hawke spat again. "is that the mortal Divine perished at the Temple, thanks to the Grey Wardens."

Stroud frowned then as well. "As I said, the Grey Wardens responsible for that crime were under the control of Corypheus. We can discuss this further once we return to Adamant."

"Yes, Adamant, where the Inquisition faces an army of demons raised by the Wardens," Hawke argued.

"How dare you judge us! You tore Kirkwall apart and started the mage rebellion!" Stroud accused.

"To protect innocent mages, not madmen drunk on Blood Magic! Even without the influence of Corypheus, the Wardens go too far. They need to be checked," Hawke growled, getting directly in Stroud's face.

"It isn't like you can just get rid of them," Sera piped up. "I mean, it's never good when they show, but they're supposed to be heroes."

Bull shrugged. "Don't know that we can pass judgement on the only folks who know how to stop Blights."

"I don't know what to tell you," Varric added. "There are a few good ones, but an awful lot of the Wardens I've known went crazy."

Cirilla threw up her hands. "This debate can wait until we're out of danger."

They were almost immediately attacked, driving home her point. All parties dropped their opinions and helped her to fight the spiders as the spirit of the Divine puffed out of sight to continue to open the way forward. The Nightmare went back to taunting. "Warden Stroud. How must it feel to devote your whole life to the Wardens, only to watch them fall? Or, worse, to know that you were responsible for their destruction? When the next Blight comes, will they curse your name?"

"With the Maker's blessing, we will end this wretched beast," he said as they pushed slowly forward through everything the demon threw at them.

As they approached another barrier, and the spirit as she worked to bring it down, it was apparently Cirilla's turn. "Do you think you can fight me? I am your every fear come to life! I am the veiled hand of Corypheus himself! The demon army you fear? I command it. They are bound all through me!"

"Ah!" the spirit said in triumph. "So if we banish you, we banish the demons? Thank you, every fear come to life."

It growled in rage, but the slip apparently was unintentional and the demon stopped it's taunting. Not far ahead, there were a pair of pride demons. "Shit, that's big," Bull rumbled as they all ducked behind rocks to stay out of sight.

"Ah, we've fought bigger," Varric mused as he cocked Bianca and readied her for a fight.

Cirilla shook her head and lowered the crossbow with a gentle hand. "Stick to cover and we can sneak around. Sera, give me one of your vials."

Sera handed Cirilla one of the small vials she carried that were filled with fire. Cirilla crept around to the edge of the rock they were behind and took aim for a spot that would distract the demons and allow them to pass. She lobbed the vial and it shattered on the ground with a bang, igniting the stone it had hit. The demons predictably trundled for the rock and Cirilla waved her people behind their backs. Just past the demons was another area blocked by the Divine and one of the barriers. As she worked to bring it down, the Nightmare seemed to know they were getting close, because it sent everything it had at them. Despair, fear and rage suffused the battlefield as they protected the Divine. Cirilla could barely keep up the will to continue fighting as the slurry of emotions battered her from within and the demons attacked her on the outside. Bull kept close to her, as if fighting at her side helped him to control his own struggles while they faced the onslaught.

Cirilla felt the barrier fall behind her and spun to observe the Divine hurrying them through. Sera took a final potshot at a despair demon and raced for the exit, most of the others on her heels. Cirilla made certain everyone got through before her. "You must get through the rift, Inquisitor. Get through and then slam it closed with all your strength. That will banish the army of demons... and exile this cursed creature to the farthest reaches of the Fade."

"The rift!" Hawke cried in excitement, pointing through a gap in the rock wall between them and freedom. "We're almost there!"

"Great, Hawke. Why not just dare the Old Gods to try and stop you," Varric chided warily.

He wasn't wrong. Around the bend, between them and the rift was the biggest spider that had ever existed. It was easily larger than Skyhold and possibly even the mountain it stood on. In front of it was another demon that reminded Cirilla of the pictures she had seen in books of what an arcane horror might look like, but much more deadly. It had a set of six segmented legs on it's back and the top half of it's face was obscured by a lump of flesh from which four tentacles dangled over it's lip-less mouth and down the front of it's chest. She felt herself backing away, her heart racing. The spirit of the Divine pushed her gently out of the way and floated up toward the danger. "If you would, please tell Leliana, 'I am sorry, I failed you, too'."

Arcs of lightning and magical energy jolted from her glowing body as she approached the massive spider. One of them struck the horror, knocking it aside and then she burst apart in a beam of light in the Nightmare's face. It knocked the spider off it's legs, stunning it. Cirilla saw their opportunity to run for the rift, but the Aspect got up from where it had fallen, pushing up on it's segmented back legs and hissed in anger. They needed to hurry if they wanted the Divine's sacrifice to mean something. Cirilla chucked a flurry of her throwing knives at the monster, doing not much else besides drawing it's attention to her. Serving to divide it's attention, Stroud began to bang his sword against his shield and draw it from her. Varric and Sera both took shots at it from different angles, and Bull let out his own loud war cry before charging toward it. She and Hawke exchanged a glance and then he slipped into the shadows. She noticed that all around the battlefield, more of the gruesome spiders were manifesting to get in the way of the melee fighter's footwork or distract Varric and Sera. She shuddered and drew her daggers, diving in to do her best to keep the things away from her heavy hitters so they could destroy the big demon. She kept a constant watch on the Nightmare demon itself, praying that if the Maker was truly listening that it would not recover before they could escape.

Their luck held out, and they managed to clear the battlefield just as the Nightmare was beginning to stir. She hurried everyone along, charging for the rift, and pausing as Varric, Sera, and Bull rushed through to safety, to see that Hawke and Stroud had gotten caught up behind her. She hurried back to urge them forward, but the Nightmare slammed one of it's giant legs down behind her, blocking the path again.

"We need to clear a path!" Stroud said over the noise of the rift and the movement of the demon.

"Go. I'll cover you!" Hawke urged, drawing his daggers.

Cirilla refused to budge, even going so far as to grab hold of his gauntleted arm. If she let Hawke kill himself, Varric would never forgive her. Or himself for that matter. If the Nightmare demon was telling the truth, he was already blaming himself for Hawke even being here. Stroud spoke again. "No. You were right. The Grey Wardens caused this. A Warden must..."

Hawke flinched in her grasp, his muscles tightening to pull free. "A Warden must help them rebuild! That's _your_ job. Corypheus is _mine_!"

"Stroud," Cirilla mumbled, swallowing as she held fast to Hawke.

"Inquisitor, it has been an honor," Stroud said before squaring his shoulders and taking off to run beneath the demon and strike at it with his sword. "For the Wardens!"

As soon as the demon stumbled under his onslaught, Cirilla bolted, dragging Hawke with her. She needed to see him safely through the rift. Stroud would not die in vein. She shoved Hawke through and then tumbled out after him. As soon as she landed, she grabbed hold of the rift and used everything she had to pull the seems together and close it. When it snapped shut behind her, the demons still fighting the Inquisition shrieked and withered out of existence, banished along with the Nightmare. "She was right," Hawke said in disbelief. "Without the Nightmare to control them, the mages are free, and Corypheus loses his demon army. Though as far as they're all concerned," he indicated the cheering armies, "the Inquisitor broke the spell with the blessing of the Maker."

She sighed, her hands still shaking and her stomach upset at the decision she had just been forced to make. "_They_ came out of this alive. As far as I'm concerned, they can tell whatever stories they like."

"I suppose you're right," Hawke agreed stoically.

"Inquisitor!" One of her men came running up to them. "The Archdemon flew off as soon as you disappeared. The Venatori magister is unconscious but alive. Cullen thought you might wish to deal with him yourself. As for the Wardens, those who weren't corrupted helped us fight the demons."

One of the Wardens stepped forward and saluted her with a fist over his chest. "We stand ready to help make up for Clarel's... tragic mistake. Where is Stroud?"

Cirilla cringed and Hawke patted her back gently, lending her the strength to choke out a response. "Warden Stroud died striking a blow against a servant of the Blight. We will honor his sacrifice, and remember how he exemplified the ideals of the Grey Wardens. Even as Corypheus and his servants tried to destroy you all from within."

"Inquisitor, we have no one left of any significant rank. What do we do now?" the Warden asked, his eyes widening from behind his helm.

"You stay and do whatever you can to help. Stroud died for the ideals of the Wardens. In War, Victory," she quoted. "And we are still at war. Do you believe the Wardens can still help?"

"I do, Your Worship," he nodded.

"You're still vulnerable to Corypheus, and possibly his Venatori, but there are plenty of demons that need killing."

Hawke removed his steadying hand from her and said, "While they do that, I'll inform the Wardens at Weisshaupt what's happened. Best they not get caught off guard."

She nodded and the Warden said, "Thank you, Your Worship. We will not fail you."

Hawke patted her again."Good luck, Inquisitor. It's been an honor. And take care of Varric for me."

Cirilla was still exhausted when her party returned to Skyhold. She had ridden ahead of the army, wishing to be as far from Adamant as she could get. Nobody really said much as their horses trundled along. It was quite a different atmosphere from the ride in the other direction.

She met Leliana after they arrived, listening to the report she gave before heading off to get a much needed bath. "Hawke sent me one final report. He is on his way to Weisshaupt. As for the Grey Wardens, they are fighting demons and red templars while staying clear of Venatori. You dealt Corypheus a significant blow, Inquisitor."

'The Grey Wardens carry respect in other nations. If we spread word that the Inquisition has their support..." Cirilla began with a smirk.

Leliana returned the gesture. "We may gain standing with nations that have suffered under the Blight. I will take the matter to Josephine. You took an army from Corypheus, but that will matter little if Orlais falls into chaos. All arrangements have been made for the ball in Halamshiral. That is where the Venatori will strike."

"How long until the ball?" Cirilla asked, curbing her excitement.

"You still have some time to prepare and to recover from Adamant, Ciri. A few weeks before we must leave," Leliana smiled. With a nod, Cirilla turned to leave but Leliana's soft voice stopped her. "What was she like?... Divine Justinia, or her soul, or the spirit who took her form. I read your report. I know it isn't clear, but..."

Cirilla smiled, remembering how she had felt when she thought the Divine might actually be alive. She had not properly known the woman, not like Leliana had, but she had still touched her. "She seemed... calm. Serene, even. And she guided us the whole way through."

"That does sound like her," Leliana said lightly.

"She did ask me to tell you something, though. She said, 'I'm sorry. I failed you, too'." Cirilla remembered, the thought having slipped her mind after everything that had happened.

Leliana's shoulders slumped. "Oh," she said, her voice choked. Then she pushed away from where she had been leaning on the rail overlooking the library and looked down at the reports in her hands. "I should finish this before it slips my mind. Perhaps later we might discuss the matter further. Thank you."

Cirilla left her with her thoughts and headed down to pass through the library and to the great hall so she could get to her quarters and escape. Instead, her attention was drawn by Dorian, standing in his usual nook and tracing his fingers over the spines of the books and tossing some away over the rail into Solas' painting room. When he noticed her, he scoffed. "You have remarkably little here on early Tevinter History. All these 'gifts' to the Inquisition, and the best they can do is the Malefica Imperio? Trite propaganda. But if you want twenty volumes on whether Divine Galatea took a shit on Sunday, this is evidently the place to find it." Another book went flying over the rail and below, landing with a smack.

"That's the Dorian I know... Critiquing every book in my library," she teased and he spun to half glare at her.

"I wouldn't have to if you could find some rebellious heretic archivist to join the cause," he snarked.

"Are there rebellious archivists? Other than you, that is?" She wondered.

He snorted around his mustache. "If Corypheus ever starts burning masterworks of literature, I'm sure a few will pop up." He paused and turned back to the shelf, mumbling to himself. "Did I see something by Genetivi here? I could have sworn..."

"What is this about, Dorian?" she asked. Something clearly had him ruffled.

He looked at her in dismay. "When everyone returned, they told us about your tumble into the Abyssal Rift. You went into the Fade. _Physically_ went in. Are you... all right?"

She found herself hugging her own waist as more tears threatened. She had not said a word about it since the battle had ended. "Stroud..." she began.

He moved to her side and brushed some of her hair from her face. "The Fade is an ordeal under normal circumstances. To be the only real thing there... beyond description. That you made it out at all is a miracle. You do realize this feat hasn't been performed in over a thousand years? Corypheus and his contemporaries entered the Fade and began the Blights. In comparison..." he paused.

She sniffed and looked up at him. A mage's expertise on the Fade may have been helpful. "It would have been easier if you'd been with me."

He let out a soft chuckle and his expression shifted. "Without question, but I'm rather glad I wasn't."

"No sense of adventure?" she teased. "That's surprising."

"I've not your talent for survival, and not everyone is as discerning as I. If you can walk in the Fade, others will try to follow. Who knows what secrets Corypheus has revealed? Not all of them will be so lucky as you. What they could unleash..." he almost shuddered and his hands around her arms tightened just slightly. "My advice? Keep this quiet, let them speculate. Too many will see this as a challenge."

She nodded. "That's a good idea."

"There are enough idiots in the world who think if they just use enough blood magic, their problems will vanish. It's exactly the sort of thing I want to stop back home. This... this I don't need." He let go of her and turned back to the shelves. "What I _do_ need is a copy of the Liberalum. I'll wager I can find Corypheus' real name. If I can prove he was a grasping ankle biter with no family to speak of? The luster would come right off. Wish me luck," he said with a grin.

The conversation had made Cirilla feel just a little bit better. She headed toward her quarters, almost having forgotten the extra guards that had been assigned to her space. She sighed as they saluted when she approached. Recognizing both of them, she crossed her arms. "Is everything clear upstairs?"

"Your Worship," Bevin stuttered. "Commander Cullen told me I was to escort you upstairs and search the room, but no one has passed us all day."

She pushed open the door and allowed him to fall in behind her. "Never underestimate the House of Repose, Bevin. Scaling the moss covering the fortress would be like a walk in the park for a harlequin."

"Yes, ma'am," Bevin said nervously. When they reached the top of the stairs and headed into the room, he tripped on her floor tile and apologized before making a sweep of the room.

When he found nothing, she dismissed him and did her own sweep, checking the ceilings and other places she might think to hide. Thinking like an assassin was one perk to her being a bard. Then she pulled closed the balcony doors and placed a pile of books at the base of each of them so if they were pushed open, she would hear the books falling. Properly secured, she moved to the tub that had been filled and added another boiling bucket of water from the fire to warm it up.

The water felt wondrous on her still sandy skin. If she never had to see the desert again, it would be too soon. After her bath, she dressed and headed back down to the main hall. It was time she shoved away her own fears and talked to her friends. No one had come out of Adamant unscathed. The first one she ran into was Varric. He looked lost in thought as he stared into the fire near the tables he used as his base of operations for the Merchant's Guild while he was at Skyhold. "Varric?" she asked as she approached.

He glanced back at her look of concern and pushed away from the table he had been leaning on. "I knew Stroud, you know. Not well. He saved Hawke's little sister from the Blight." He sighed heavily and rounded the table to stand next to her. "Not many people knew who he was, but the man was a hero when it mattered. He wasn't the first good man to fall to Corypheus. He won't be the last. This story's no good for heroes."

She nudged him, crossing her arms and leaning her rear on the table, knowing he was grateful that Hawke had made it out alive. "Some of us heroes will make it. We're just too amazing to die."

He chuckled lightly. "Well, if we're both still standing at the end of all this, I'll buy the drinks." Then he sighed. "Hawke asked me to tell everyone back in Kirkwall where he's going. Maker's breath, Isabela's going to be furious. I'd better write some letters. Excuse me."

With a smile, she left Varric to his letters and left the main hall. She made a beeline for Herald's Rest because she was mostly concerned that Bull had barely spoken a word to her since Adamant. She had allowed him his space, but now that they were both safe and back at Skyhold, she wanted to have a conversation. She never made it to the tavern, because she heard a meaty thunking sound coming from the training grounds followed by Bull's voice. "Again..." he grunted. "Again..." another grunt. She followed the noise and saw Cassandra wielding a long, heavy wooden pole. She smacked Bull's chest and he grunted again. "Oh, come on! This is why the Qun doesn't like women fighting. I should've asked Cullen," he bellowed. Cassandra fixed him with an angry glare and switched her stance before swinging again, this time whipping it upwards to catch him under his chin and flatten him. He gasped as he laid on his back, "Good... one..."

Cirilla approached with a small grin as Cassandra turned and Bull rolled to get back up. Cassandra held the stick out to her and smiled. "Perhaps you can take over."

Cirilla took the stick and weighed it as Cassandra walked off, shaking her head. As she tipped her head in question at him, Bull explained. "Qunari training exercise to master your fear. Been a while since I needed it, but that Nightmare demon was... big."

She shrugged, catching the pleading in his eye and rested her hands on the grips of the heavy stick. "All right..."

He parted his legs and readied himself, pumping his arms in anticipation. She pulled back and swung the stick as hard as she could, knowing he could take it. "There we go!" he said with a grunt as a small mark showed up on his skin where she had struck him. She hit him again. "Oh, yeah..." He talked through his fears as she wailed on him. "Damn demon... Who's stuck in the Fade, huh?... "

"That Nightmare wanted to tear you in half!" she goaded, smacking him again.

"Not a chance, piece of Fade piece of crap!" His voice got louder and louder as he worked through everything that was bothering him. "And who killed you?... That's right! Iron _Fucking_ Bull!" He held up a hand, breathing heavily, but grinning. "Oh... I needed that. Thanks, Boss."

"Didn't know you liked it _that_ rough," she teased, tossing the stick down and realizing that he had called her boss because she likely had a tail of guards and he wanted to seem professional.

She glanced over her shoulder as he bellowed a laugh, noting two guards whom she recognized a short distance away. "Only from you, Boss. Only from you."

Guards be damned, she stepped closer and placed a hand over the marks she had made on his chest. "You sure you'll be all right?"

"I'm more worried about you," he answered, taking her hands in his and lifting one to kiss it gently. "What happened with that Warden..."

"Stroud..." she interrupted. "It's... I'll be... shit."

He hummed a chuckle. "I love that you can't lie to me, Kadan. We'll talk about it later. Make sure your guards know to let me in tonight."

"You're on the top of the list," she smirked, gently pulling her hands away from him. She turned to head off, but didn't make it far before his hand slapped harshly against her rear, the slapping sound echoing across the training ring. She spun to glare at him, but his devious smirk was too much, she shoved his shoulder in retribution before grabbing hold of his neck and pulling him down to kiss him hard. He pulled her against him and prolonged the kiss only briefly before letting her go and turning away to head off toward the main hall chuckling as he passed her guards, who were finding a lot of other things interesting besides the Inquisitor and her Qunari lover.

Sera was in her headache inducing room, staring out the open window and fiddling with a broken sextant. "Sera?" Cirilla said cautiously, not wanting to scare her. "About Adamant and what happened in the Fade..." Sera turned, cutting off her apology to swing the fist holding the sextant for Cirilla's face. Cirilla dipped backwards, feeling the breeze from the passing fist and noting the sneer on Sera's face. This was the last reaction she had expected. "A good shot," she said. "Why are you angry?"

"Shut up and listen, yeah? Never again, you hear me? Everyone is pretending it made sense. Demons and visions and all of it. The Fade isn't real. And I saw nothing. _Nothing_. Like little empty _things_. Like, there's nothing in the dark. No point. Stupid, right? That shouldn't be scary like... like it was. I'd have taken spiders," her voice calmed as she talked and she started to fiddle with the sextant again. "Like you! You're scared of spiders? All of them? Even little ones?" she giggled.

Cirilla shuddered. "Pretty much scared of all spiders, yes."

"That's no good. I mean, they're everywhere. I bet even right here, just crawling with those legs and hairy eyes... That's probably not helping." She stopped and got serious again. "It's stupid to think about anyway. Everybody going on about imaginary stuff when real people died. Probably. Stroud, yeah? Lost a serious mustache there. And in trade, a busted-down bunch of Wardens. And they're always weird. Usually bad stuff happens first so you're glad when the hero shows up. But Wardens are the wrong way 'round. They're the good thing that means a bad thing is _about_ to happen. Like in Denerim, when the Blight ended."

Spider talk aside, Sera was opening up, and if there was anything that Cirilla loved it was history. "A lot happened in Denerim. What did you see?"

Sera snorted and wrinkled her nose. "People talked a lot about this one Warden. There was a big fight, and they died, or, I don't know, maybe they didn't."

"The Hero of Ferelden? You forgot the hero of Ferelden?" Cirilla asked as her brow rose and she crossed her arms teasingly.

"That was ages ago. Ten years. I was playing with small painted boxes and burying stuff I stole. I remember more people cringing about magic than Blight. Wardens were an excuse for your stuff to go missing. Blackwall's nice, though. Different from the Adamant ones. Need more like him." She dropped the sextant and flopped onto her couch. "Oh yeah, almost forgot. Cully's march around paid off in Verchiel. When you want, we can go see if the Jennies left some treats for us. Thanks again, Ciri."

"We'll head there tomorrow." Cirilla wrinkled her nose. "I have work to catch up on first."

"Don't forget food. Your creepy friend might forget to break in your room. He's out there yelling at Solas," she pointed down to the courtyard. Cirilla frowned, peering out as well, seeing Cole chasing after Solas down the stairs from the main hall. "Time to go play diplomatic Inky, yeah?"

"I'll talk to you later, Sera.

Cirilla made her way quickly down the stairs in the tavern and went toward where Cole was grumbling at Solas. She didn't catch what Solas responded with before Cole noticed her. He turned from Solas and hurried toward her, pointing behind him. "He won't bind me. He's a mage, and he likes demons, but he won't help."

Cirilla frowned and crossed her arms. "We just saw the Grey Wardens try to raise an army of demons. You want Solas to _bind you_?"

"He has to," Cole pleaded, going back to Solas and forcing Cirilla to follow to hear him. "If Solas won't do the ritual to bind me, someone else could. Will! Like the Warden mages! And then... I'm not me anymore. Walls around what I want, blocking, bleeding, making me a monster."

Cirilla reached out and touched Cole's arm, gently emphasizing her point. "Isn't it extreme for Solas to bind you? What if that takes away the part of you that makes you... you?"

He allowed her hand to stay on him as he spoke. "Helping makes me who I am. I help the hurting. That is what I do, all I do, am, me!"

"And if binding you erases your mind?" Solas asked carefully. "Your consciousness?"

He looked between them. "_You_ wouldn't make me hurt innocent people. I don't want to hurt innocent people again."

Cirilla sighed. "There has to be some middle ground between 'do nothing' and 'bind Cole with blood magic'."

"Indeed," Solas agreed, clasping his hands behind his back. "I recall stories of amulets used by Rivaini seers to protect spirits they summoned from rival mages. A spirit wearing an Amulet of the Unbound was immune to blood magic and binding. It should protect Cole as well. The resources of the Inquisition could be used to find such a talisman."

"Good," Cole said angrily, turning to storm off toward where he usually stayed in the tavern. "They will not take me."

Cirilla sighed and looked to Solas. "I'll look into the amulet."

"Thank you, Inquisitor."


	11. Sera Was Never

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cirilla takes a few personal trips for her people in between attacks by the House of Repose

Solas seemed unphased by everything that had happened at Adamant, and she didn't relish asking after his well-being. She had excused herself and found her way to Cassandra's little space above the armory. The woman was scribbling furiously on a parchment, the ink blotting out whatever she had written and she groaned in frustration before addressing Cirilla. "Writing does not come naturally to me, as I'm certain you can imagine."

Cirilla leaned her rear against the rail looking over into the armory below and smirked. "Let me guess. You're composing a love poem?"

Cassandra looked up at her with a grin, shaking her head. "I couldn't, not even if my life depended on it."

"It's not _that_ hard," Cirilla chuckled.

"Yes, it is. Poetry takes finesse, it takes... _grace_," Cassandra sighed, going back to her writing, but soon scribbling again.

"You think you don't have those things?" Cirilla asked in shock. She had seen Cassandra move on the battlefield. There were different kinds of grace.

The warrior shook her head again. "Historians will one day ask what happened at Adamant Fortress, in the Fade. I wasn't there, but others were. Their accounts must be recorded."

"That's an excellent idea, Cassandra," Cirilla agreed, already having toyed with the idea of composing something that would tell the story without piquing the interest of Dorian's 'idiots' that might want to follow suit. It had been forever since she had written her own ballad.

"I certainly thought so... until I started writing." She dropped her quill and stood, coming around the table to lean beside Cirilla. "I still don't know what to say about the spirit of the Divine. The Chantry teaches us that the souls of the dead pass through the Fade, so it _could_ have been her. Yet even so..."

"Do you really think it might have been her? A ghost?" Cirilla asked with a wishful smile.

Cassandra shrugged. "A ghost, a remnant of her hopes and memories, her lingering will to do good... Those things are all possible. Nobody knows for certain what happens after we die. A spirit could have assumed her form... but why? It helped you, as Justinia herself would have."

Cirilla smiled. "Perhaps it doesn't really matter what she really was, then."

"It matters to me, to what I must write," Cassandra insisted. "I wish I'd seen her, seen _it_. I feel so inadequate trying to interpret."

Cirilla remembered the feeling of faith that had washed over her when she had seen the Divine. "I believe it was the Divine. She helped us one last time."

"I hope that's true," Cassandra sighed. "I want to believe it." She paused, smiling gently before the expression faded and she looked at Cirilla, picking at a splinter of wood on the rail. "When they told me you were physically in the Fade, I was terrified for you. The last time such a thing happened, we created Darkspawn. We created Corypheus. The world needs to know the truth this time. No more legends lost to the ages."

Cassandra went back to her writing and Cirilla left feeling inspired. She spent the afternoon in her quarters, working out some verses to put together to describe what had happened in the Fade. When her candles started to run low, and dusk folded around her, she heard Bull's familiar thumping footsteps coming up the stairs. She smiled and greeted him as he rounded the rail with a grin of his own. "I haven't seen you all afternoon, Kadan. Paperwork?" he asked, making his way over to her to lean over the back of her chair, his palms on the desk on either side of her, trapping her in the chair so he could lean down and sneak a peek at what she was doing while he inhaled the scent of her hair and then went for her neck.

She shuddered. "Not really," she answered, flaring her rough drafts out for him to read.

He hummed in appreciation. "You can sing it for me when it's finished. Right now..." he reached his hands under her armpits and lifted her from her chair. Then he kicked the chair out of the way and bent her over the desk. "It's been weeks since you've gotten what you needed," he growled in her ear. He slipped a hand up under the back of her tunic and traced up her back and over her shoulders, massaging his fingers deep as he went. He pulled the tunic free, exposing her back to his mouth as he continued to trace up and down her sides. Then he shifted her hips upwards to reach beneath her and unbuckle her belt, whipping it free so he could use it to draw her wrists down behind her and tie them together tightly. This loosened her trousers and once her hands were bound, he dipped his hand beneath her again and then slipped it inside her knickers, his fingers tracing over her clit. She moaned as a cascade of moisture met his ministrations. He drew his fingers away, making her whimper until he used the now free hand to remove her bottoms. He gripped her rear and grunted along with the motion. "I love this ass." Then he pulled back and slapped her cheek hard. The same one he had targeted in the training ring earlier. She hissed and he paused before getting the other side, giving her ample time to use their safe word. Instead, she hiked her rear higher, pushing it into his crotch. She was rewarded with a third slap which she responded to with a moan. She heard rustling and craned her neck to watch him undressing, biting her lip. When he saw her watching, he chuckled and let the pants fall before moving closer to her again, teasingly pressing his erection along her exposed backside as he reached for her hair to drag her head further around and press his mouth hungrily to hers. The sensation of him rubbing against her lower lips between her cheeks had her body responding with another gush of moisture, preparing it to take him. "You're so eager, Kadan," he grumbled around their kiss. "Has it been too long?"

She whimpered as he pulled away, his hand reaching around her middle again to press her hips against him, his fingers frustratingly grazing a millimeter away from where she wished he would put them, and his head millimeters from her opening. She tried to shift so he would be touching her, but his weight against her had her paralyzed. He leaned over her again, still making sure he stayed exactly where he was and his mouth went to her neck, grazing over that hair raising spot just behind her ear, making her shudder beneath him, but never making contact. "Maker," she gasped when his teeth grazed over her flesh before he took a chunk of the meaty part of her shoulder and bit down just hard enough so he didn't break skin. "Please," she begged as his fingers shifted and he pushed closer to penetration. He flicked his middle finger once over her labia before pulling it away again and making her whimper in frustration. Then he shifted her body and his shaft grazed over her opening and beyond, tickling over where he had just touched and she moaned, a choked and frustrated sound as he stilled again, teasing her to madness. "Please," she begged again, the slickness building between them as he drew her arousal to a head. She throbbed for him, her body aching to feel his inside it. He drew back again, her body trembling as he withdrew. "I need you," she pleaded. His hands moved to her hips and then he used his leverage to shift her body before spreading her cheeks with his palms. He touched his head to her opening and thrust only deep enough to draw an agonized cry from her throat as he pulled back out again. She struggled in her bonds, wishing she could move so she could force him inside. A deep rumbling chuckle left his throat before he again dipped shallowly between her legs only to leave her again, writhing and whimpering. Finally, after another teasing chuckle, he gave her what she had been begging for. He pushed himself inside as far as he could go with the shallow angle before lifting her up to open her wider for him. Once he was in to the base, he did not pull out, but rolled his hips up and down, rubbing his head on the inner wall of her labia and making her cry out, wordless, whimpering sounds left her lips as he moved his hands, so he could reach up beneath her and attend to the outside that he had toyed with before while using his other hand to grope her breasts, squeezing her nipples to points. Her vision went dark as he began to sway hips to the sides as well, stroking in a circle, every inch of her insides. There was barely a build up before she felt her orgasm dripping down her legs as she writhed beneath him, the never ending stroking exploding her senses and turning her to a useless mess of non-working limbs.

She was only barely aware that he had drawn himself out of her until his exit dragged along her back wall and made her already sensitive body twitch and her muscles clench around him again, throwing another blinding wash of orgasm through her that had her crying out. As he undid the belt around her wrists with a chuckle, he said, "Careful you don't draw those guards down on us with all that screaming."

Her arms fell limp at her sides and she managed to let out her own short chuckle as she tried to push herself up. Bull wrapped an arm around her and lifted her, cradling her to him as he crossed the room and set her on the bed. "Thanks," she managed, chuckling again in pure bliss.

"You had a lot of tension built up, Kadan. We were just getting started," he teased, lying down beside her and running his palm up her stomach and over her breasts that were still standing at attention.

"Give me a minute and we can do this right," she promised, riding out the humming in her loins so she wouldn't cum as soon as she jumped on top of him. In the meantime, he was caressing her body with his hands and nuzzling her neck. When she regained control of her limbs, she reached up and pushed her palms into his chest, moving him onto his back. Then she climbed on top so she was straddling his hips. "I think it's time we take care of what you need."

She started at his earlobe, nibbling gently before tracing her lips down his neck, over his chest and down still so she was exploring the muscles of his stomach before shuffling her body down so she could reach her prize. He stood tall and firm, still glistening from the juices she had left behind with her orgasm. She started at the base and slowly licked up to the tip, teasingly and gently grazing her teeth over his sensitive head. He hissed and looked down at her with a grunt to watch her move her mouth over him and down, her eyes locked on his as she swallowed him as far as her throat would allow, wrapping her fingers around his base to make up the difference. She moved her hand with her bobbing head as she twirled her tongue just as slowly. She worked him, tasting herself still lingering on him, soon joined by the mildly salty taste of him, telling her she was doing her job well. She gave him a few more minutes before slowly pulling her mouth off him and crawling back up to meet his lips, dragging herself over him before positioning herself just above and then sliding him inside. With her palms on his chest, she rolled her hips, reveling in the feel of him so deep. She knew he was close when he started mumbling in Qunlat and she picked up her pace, tracing the tips of her fingers around his nipples. She felt herself building to her own climax again and with one more roll of her hips, she was gasping again, her whole body shuddering as she tightened around him. He picked her up, moving her from atop him so he could let loose his own orgasm. She dropped down to press her chest to his, their sweat mingling so when he chuckled and kissed her with appreciation, the movement had her sliding to the side to lay next to him.

As she walked her fingers up his chest to trace over his tattoos, he said breathlessly, "Damn, that was... That was good, Kadan."

She chuckled herself. "I'm just glad I could keep up."

He tipped his head to gaze at her. "All this time, and you've never said 'Katoh'. If I'd known you'd last this long, I'd have let you pick your own watchword."

She was no raw recruit when it came to the type of relationship they had, but that made her draw her head back in question. "People choose their own watchwords?"

He shrugged. "Normally, yes. It can be anything, so long as it's not something you'd ever shout by accident." He snickered. "Josephine might pick 'Madrigal', while Cullen would go with 'phylactery'. As for Cassandra, it'd probably be something soft, like 'silk' or 'satin'."

"You sure about that?" she asked, certain Cassandra was a bit more of a romantic than most people pegged her.

"Hey," he said knuckling her chin. "Ben-Hassrath, remember? I've got everyone pegged."

"What about Varric?" she asked jokingly. "Wait, don't tell me... Bianca."

Bull laughed. "No, it'd have to be something he _wouldn't_ shout during sex. Maybe 'paragon' or 'thaig'," he mused.

"What about Blackwall?" she wondered.

"Hmm..." he said, thinking. " 'petit-alms'. Get deep enough under that armor, there's a man who lived the good life once."

She giggled, enjoying the insight he had into their friends. "What about Vivienne?"

"Tough one. I'm going with 'periwinkle', She looks like a periwinkle kind of lady."

"Here's a tough one, Cole."

"You know, he stumped me. I actually asked him. He thought really hard about it, then finally said his watchword was 'stop'." Bull chuckled. "I don't think he got it. Probably for the best, honestly."

"Okay, what about, Sera?" She snuggled her head closer to his chest.

"Well, it wouldn't be 'shite', or you'd never even get started. Honestly though, Sera's not the kind who lets you tie her down," Bull pointed out.

She continued to trace his tattoos and said, "If you want to make me use that watchword, you'll need to try harder." Then she nipped gently at his neck.

"Good to know," he said with a contented sigh. He was silent for a moment before his arm wrapped around her shoulder. "I'm a better man for having met you, Kadan. I just hope this made things a little easier on your end."

It was rare that he was so open with his feelings and she decided to tease him, resting her cheek on his chest. Sighing she said, "I just wish we'd had time for the wedding before Corypheus showed up."

"I... what?" he asked abruptly.

She lifted her head to gaze at his carefully schooled expression as he looked at her with his eye a little wider than usual. "I assumed we were getting married," she said, holding in her mirth.

"Um... uh..." he sputtered, looking for whatever answer he thought was the appropriate one, and she burst into a fit of laughter.

"The look on your face," she chuckled.

"Oh, you are _evil_!" he growled, pushing her onto her back so he could punish her for her joke.

They set out the next morning to a small town near Crestwood. Sera excitedly led them to the drop point until she realized where they were. "Wait, this is weird."

"What?" Cirilla asked her, glancing around and not seeing anything out of the ordinary.

"I was expecting a village or something. The people that leave me stuff don't trek out to places like this. Give me a city, and I'll give you a tour, but... surprise, surprise... I don't know stupid woods or ruins." A noise sounded not far away and Sera's head whipped around. "What's that?"

Along the path nearby, a man in simple clothes approached them warily. "Don't hurt me! Harmond made me do it!" The man stuttered.

"Quiet yourself," Cirilla soothed, holding her hands in plain sight to show she meant him no harm. "We're here to help."

"Help?" he squeaked. "Had enough help. I complain about a fight, and suddenly I'm an agent or something?"

Sera's eyes widened. "You were the one with the rumor out of Verchiel? My friend?"

"You're her?" The man gasped. "You're the one he's waiting for!" He turned and stumbled, shouting as he tried to run away. "It's her! She's here! Red Jenny!"

He didn't make it far down the path before two arrows planted themselves in his chest. The men responsible turned their bows on Cirilla and her people next. From what she could tell in the flurry of battle, they were uniformed mercenaries, but it was not a uniform she recognized. Bull made short work of the ones that got close enough, tromping from the rear of the group to swing his axe in a wide arc and behead three at once. Varric and Sera picked off the archers and before Cirilla could even get a dagger in edgewise, the enemies were dead. From a little ways down the path she heard a voice exclaim, "Whoa-ho-ho! Hold on! I was _not_ aware the Inquisitor was personally involved! This is a tragic misunderstanding! Let's all sheath our swords, you walk out, and we'll conduct this like business!"

Cirilla slid her daggers home and began to storm down the path towards the speaker. He was a weasley looking man with graying hair and a uptight sneer atop finely made clothes. His arms were crossed, and he looked harmless, but Cirilla palmed a knife just in case. "Don't believe this pissbag. He started it," Sera growled as they approached him.

"There," the man said, dropping his arms and glaring at them from beneath thick eyebrows. "That wasn't so hard, was it? We identified the confusion, and we worked past it. I'm Lord Pel Harmond. I do hope, Inquisitor, that you continue to respond to reason. After all, your choice of company is hardly virtuous." His lip curled as he eyed her companions and Cirilla felt like setting Sera on him straightaway, but she was the Inquisitor. She had to talk first.

"Frigging user, you are," Sera growled in response. "Another noble prick who punches down!"

"We're the same, you and I," Harmond began, but changed his tune quickly as his sneer of disapproval deepened the longer he looked upon her and her party. "Well, that is overstating it. You are nothing like me. But we both need people."

"You want to talk _now_," Cirilla pointed out. "But Sera is my ally. You attacked her 'friends'."

"Come now, you know how much her meddling cost me? Because apparently you were complicit," Harmond growled. "Honestly, previous to this very moment, I thought you'd also been tricked by these Red Jennies. You're of noble birth, and as Inquisitor, you are more than a peer. I attacked them on behalf of us both."

"Arse-biscuit," Sera grumbled.

Harmond raised a brow. "Quite... Inquisitor? Herald. I don't want to be your enemy. I am barely invested in being hers. If you are willing to recognize an opportunity, we could be exceptional partners."

Cirilla felt her sneer matching his. How dare he attack her people and then pretend he was on her side and try to profit from her and her birth. She looked to Sera and gave her a nod. _Do what you want with him._ Sera had her own angry glare and she took a dagger from her belt. She threw it end over end and it slapped harmlessly against his chest and then fell to the ground, planting itself in the dirt. Still with his arrogant expression, he sighed and bent to pick it up. "Now, what was the point of that?"

The distraction had worked. As he bent, Sera had approached him and when he looked up to ask the question, she kneed him directly in his jewels. Cirilla cringed as he dropped the knife, grabbed them and dropped to his knees, while Sera proceeded to knee him in the chin, taking him to the ground and spraying blood from his nose. She continued to kick him in the face, savagely angry with him. "Mother pussbucket frigging bastard shitebag pissface! Eat it, you lop-eared, son of an arse-nut rot-suck piece of..."

Cirilla reached out to take Sera's arm. "Sera..."

"Ugh!" Sera growled continuing to kick for the obviously dead man's head.

"Sera!" Cirilla said more loudly to grab her attention.

"What?" Sera turned on her, still fuming.

"I think you're done. At this point, you're making wine," Cirilla pointed out.

"Eew!" Sera grunted in disgust. "That makes it worse." She paused and glanced at Cirilla. "Friends, Inquisitor. Better than his lot any day."

They made it back to Skyhold with empty pockets, but Sera seemed to work through her feelings as they traveled, approaching Cirilla after they got back. "Hey, you. Know what? Thanks. Felt good to stomp the smile off that pisshead's face. It doesn't go bad like that often, yeah? But when it does, they deserve it."

Cirilla agreed. Harmond had been a user, just like Sera said. "Risky, but keep it within the Inquisition, and I'll support you."

"Even though this puckered around us?" Sera asked in surprise.

"Even so," Cirilla nodded.

Sera looked confused. "Well. Good, then." She paused, looking away before frowning at Cirilla. "Right, what do you mean, because I am really not used to that... acceptance thing you're doing right there."

Cirilla chuckled. "We'll have some differences, but I want to be one of your friends."

Sera arched a brow. "You're pretty big to be one of my contacts. Important, not fat. But all right, Inquisitor. You're on my good side. We'll see if it lasts."

When Cirilla left Sera to her room, she made her way through the tavern, wiggling her fingers in a wave at Bull who winked and raised his mug to her as she left. She had the day off, and with her guard tail, there was not much she could do but walk the grounds and check in on things. On her way to the main hall, she spotted Cassandra sitting on a small stool under the tree where she normally trained. She looked immersed in a book and Cirilla held her guards back with a palm to approach Cassandra. "Good book?" she asked, looking over Cassandra's shoulder.

The warrior jumped up in surprise, dropping the book and trying to shuffle it beneath the stool with her foot. "I don't know what you're talking about!" she yelped.

Cirilla chuckled. "Yes, because I suddenly went blind." She pointed behind Cassandra's back.

"Oh, that?" Cassandra cleared her throat, her eyes wild. "Just... reports. From Commander Cullen."

"You're an excellent liar," Cirilla teased sarcastically.

Cassandra glanced down at her feet, shuffling them nervously. "It's of no interest to you, I'm certain." When Cirilla continued to smirk and watch her expectantly, interested now that she had made such a big deal about it, Cassandra unleashed one of her signature noises of disgust and picked the book from beneath her stool. "It's a book."

"I can see that," Cirilla pointed out with another chuckle.

"It's... one of Varric's tales. _Swords and Shields_. The latest chapter." As Cassandra spoke, Cirilla saw Dorian leaving the main hall and he waved at her as he got closer, heading likely toward Cullen's tower.

Cirilla had been curious as to why Cassandra would hide why she was reading, but upon hearing that it was one of Varric's books, and the romance serial at that, she had to swallow a chuckle. She shrugged, keeping her expression neutral. "So you like to read... what's wrong with that?"

"It's frivolous," Cassandra said, her cheeks actually flushing. "There are more important things for me to do."

"That's just her favorite," Dorian said, obviously picking up on their conversation as he passed.

Cassandra spun to point and scowl at him. "Nobody asked you, _Tevinter_."

Dorian chuckled with his usual velvety hum. "I couldn't finish the last one you lent me. I actually feel dumber for having tried." Then he continued on his way with a smile and gentle nudge to Cirilla's shoulder.

"It's literature!" Cassandra defended, then her tone changed to embarrassed again. "Smutty... literature." Then her eyes widened. "Whatever you do, don't tell Varric!"

Cirilla reached for the book. "Maybe _I_ should read that book..."

Cassandra snatched it out of her reach, making Cirilla smirk harder. "You? No!"

Cirilla snorted. "Why not me?" Cassandra had been present in the room as Cirilla sat draped in nothing but a sheet and defended her relationship with the very naked Iron Bull lying on display behind her.

"You're the Inquisitor," Cassandra said lamely.

Cirilla laughed outright. "Oh, I _see_."

Cassandra sighed as she usually did when Cirilla teased her. "They're terrible. And _magnificent._ And _this_ one ends in a cliffhanger. I know Varric is working on the next, he must be!" Her voice rose with her excitement. "You! You could ask him to finish it, _command_ him to..." then she seemed to realize what she was saying and pressed her lips together, her brow creasing as she narrowed her eyes in challenge. "Pretend you don't know this about me." Then she hugged the book to her chest and hurried to make her way inside.

Still chuckling, Cirilla made her way straight to Varric. When he spotted her approaching, he grinned. "Need something, or are you just here to admire the dwarf?"

She sat down casually in one of the chairs near his and smirked. "Cassandra is waiting for the next issue of _Swords and Shields._"

Varric shook his head. "I must have heard that wrong. It sounded like you just said that Cassandra read my books."

Cirilla shrugged, relaxing into the chair and lacing her fingers over her stomach. "She's a pretty big fan, in fact."

Varric lifted a single brow, his upper-lip on the same side following it. "Are we talking about the same Cassandra? Tall, grumpy Seeker? Likes stabbing things?" When Cirilla nodded, he shook his head in disbelief. "Wait, did you say the romance serial? She'll be waiting for a while, then. I haven't finished it and wasn't planning to. That book is easily the worst I've ever written. The last issue barely sold enough to pay for the ink."

Cirilla pouted. "I was hoping to give it to Cassandra as a gift."

Varric cocked his head and chuckled. "Oh come on, that's just cruel. Even the Seeker doesn't deserve that..." He paused as the implications dawned on him. "So... you want me to finish writing the latest issue of my worst serial. For Cassandra. That's such a terrible idea, I have to do it. On one condition... I get to be there when you give her the book."

"You've got a deal," Cirilla smirked.

"I'll get to work, then. You know, the fact that the book is terrible just makes it more worthwhile, somehow."

Cirilla patted his shoulder and got up to continue her tour of the castle. Mother Giselle approached her suddenly, making her guards tense behind her. She waved them off and took Giselle's elbow to move her to the side. "I have news regarding one of your... companions. The Tevinter," Giselle announced softly, her expression concerned.

From the look on her face the news was likely something Cirilla wouldn't like. She had heard some of the whispers around Skyhold about Dorian. "Nothing good, I expect."

Giselle took her turn of phrase to mean that Cirilla was not fond of Dorian, even though the opposite was true. "If you have reservations about his presence here, I share them, but this is another matter. I have been in contact with his family. House Pavus, out of Qarinus. Are you familiar with them?"

Cirilla shrugged. "He's mentioned his family. They don't appear to be on good terms."

"Yes, I believe you're correct," Giselle agreed. "The family sent a letter describing the estrangement from their son and pleading for my aid. They've asked to arrange a meeting. Quietly, without telling him. They fear it's the only way he'll come. Since you seem to be on good terms with the young man, I'd hoped..."

"Why would his family contact you?" Cirilla wondered with a frown. Had Giselle initiated this in an attempt to get rid of Dorian?

"Because they don't know you, Inquisitor. I'm not of the Imperial Chantry, but they know what I represent. These are parents concerned about the welfare of their son. How could I not do whatever possible? I would speak to the young man myself, but... he does not care for me. Thus I come to you. If any good can come of this, we must try."

Cirilla continued to glare. "If you think I'm going to trick Dorian into meeting his family..."

Giselle sighed, cutting off Cirilla's protest. "I feared you might say that. The family will send a retainer to meet the young man at the Redcliffe tavern to take him onward. If he truly does not wish this reunion, he can always end the matter there. I pray you change your mind, Inquisitor. Perhaps their letter will persuade you." Giselle handed her a rolled parchment. "If there is any chance of success in this, it behooves us to act."

Cirilla took the letter and pressed her lips together, letting Giselle understand that she was not going to lie to Dorian. She and Dorian had been through more together than any of the others really knew. The jaunt into the future had been a trying experience. She owed him her life. He deserved better than her tricking him.

She dismissed her guards at her door and headed up to her quarters to tend to some paperwork and read the letter from Dorian's parents. She sat on her couch and unrolled the letter. The hand was nearly as swirling as Dorian's own. Apparently penmanship was very important to the high born families in Tevinter.

_Your Reverence,_

_I understand that you feel inadequate to the task of bringing Dorian to a secret meeting. Even in the asking, I find it difficult to believe myself. Considering my son has rebuffed all contact, this is the only way. I know him. He would be too proud to come if he knew... even just to talk. That is all we wish to do. The thought of Dorian in the south, placing himself in the path of such danger, alarms us more than I can express._

_If this somehow succeeds, we have a family retainer at the Vandoral Hills watching for Dorian's arrival. He will bring the boy to us, somewhere private. If Dorian utterly refuses to go with him, it ends there... and there is nothing we can do. We are at our wit's end._

_Graciously Yours, _

_Magister Halward of House Pavus_

Cirilla sighed. The letter sounded much like the one that she had received after going to university against her family's wishes. She rolled it back up and stood to pace to her desk and place it with her other reports. She attempted to settle in and do some of her own work, but the letter kept calling to her. She picked it up and read it over again. She still had some time before she needed to leave for the Winter Palace. She could make it to Redcliffe and back, barring any interruptions. That was of course, if Dorian chose to go. He might just tear the letter in half and ignore it. That was what she had done with her letter, after all. Unable to ignore it, she rolled up the letter again and left her quarters to head for Cullen's tower.

When she knocked, there was a shuffling sound and Cullen's voice followed. "Yes?"

She pushed the door open and stepped in, shooing her guards to wait outside. Dorian was perched daintily on the edge of Cullen's desk and Cullen was standing behind it, trying to look busy. "I'm sorry to interrupt," she said with a smirk. "Dorian, there's a letter you need to see."

He pushed away from the desk and floated toward her, his usual perfume and parchment scent following him. He grinned teasingly. "A letter? Is it a naughty letter? A humorous proposal from some Antivan dowager?"

"Not quite," she bit her lip, flicking her eyes to Cullen who was frowning suspiciously. "It's from your father."

Dorian's teasing stance and expression both turned sour. He crossed his arms. "From my father. I see, and what does Magister Halward want, pray tell?"

"A meeting," she said cautiously.

Dorian flinched, glancing back at Cullen before sighing. "Excuse us for a moment."

Then he took Cirilla by the elbow and led her out the door opposite the one she had come in, realizing that they would meet up with her guards if they went that way. This was best done in private. "Show me this letter," he asked gruffly as he held out his palm, his many rings catching the sunlight and reflecting it brightly. Cirilla handed the parchment over and waited patiently as Dorian read over it, his frown deepening with each line. " 'I know my son'," he quoted with a scoff as he finished reading, shaking the letter in disgust. "What my father knows of me would barely fill a thimble. This is so typical. I'm willing to bet this 'retainer' is a henchman, hired to knock me on the head and drag me back to Tevinter."

"You think your father would actually do that?" she asked gently.

He sighed. "No... although I wouldn't put it past him. Let's go. Let's meet this so-called 'family retainer'. If it's a trap, we escape and kill everyone. You're good at that. If it's not, I send the man back to my father with the message that he can stick his alarm in his 'wit's end'."

Cirilla bit her lip, wondering if she had earned the right to ask what she was wondering. "There seems to be bad blood between you and your family."

He laughed outright, startling her with the abruptness of it. "Interesting turn of phrase. But you're correct. They don't care for my choices, nor I for theirs."

"Because you wouldn't get married? Because you left?" she prodded.

"That too," he agreed.

"I think you should meet with this retainer... find out what your family wants," Cirilla advised, reaching to place her hand on his forearm.

"I didn't ask what you thought, did I?" Before Cirilla could even react to the harsh tone, he balked. "That... was unworthy. I apologize." Then he sighed and glanced back down at the letter. "There'd be no harm in hearing what this man of my father's has to say. If I don't like it, however, I want to leave."

Cirilla smiled. "That works for me."

Dorian suddenly smirked. "I wonder how much my father paid this man to wait around just in case I showed." Then he sighed. "We'll find out soon enough."

Cirilla had talked Cullen into allowing her to take Dorian to Redcliffe without backup. To do it without fuss however, she had needed to sneak off first thing in the morning while Bull was still asleep. The last thing Dorian needed was interference in his personal life. He seemed grateful that she had been willing to come with him, however, in spite of the threat to her own life that was lingering. According to Leliana, the House of Repose had been adamant that they could do nothing about the contract on her life unless the original holder revoked it, or was no longer alive to pay them when the job was done. Cirilla armed herself to the teeth and she and Dorian set off on horseback to Redcliffe. Dorian talked most of the way, liking the sound of his own voice as much as she enjoyed listening to his stories about Tevinter. Firsthand knowledge was the best knowledge.

When they reached the tavern, Cirilla immediately felt the strangeness in the air. For the time of day, there was little noise coming from the main gathering spot in the village. Dorian pushed the door open and mumbled as he entered. "Uh oh, nobody's here. This doesn't bode well..."

They both turned when a voice from the stairwell spoke his name. "Dorian..." The man shared many of the characteristics that Dorian had. He had the same lightly hooked nose, the same darkened skin and black hair, and the same chin.

Before Dorian could even respond through the sneer on his face, she knew this was no retainer. "Father..." he snarled. "So the whole story about the 'family retainer' was just... what? a smoke screen?"

"Then you were told..." Halward Pavus stepped further into the room with the same proud gait that Dorian used to strut around Skyhold, but his father made it look more sophisticated than sexy. "I apologize for the deception, Inquisitor. I never intended for you to be involved."

"Of course not," Dorian snapped. "Magister Pavus couldn't come to Skyhold and be seen with the dread Inquisitor. What would people think?" Without so much as taking a breath, Dorian continued. "What is 'this' exactly, father? Ambush? Kidnapping? Warm family reunion?"

The Magister sighed heavily, his head hanging in disappointment. "This is how it has always been."

Cirilla stepped forward and took Dorian's elbow in support. "You went through all of this to get Dorian here. Talk to him."

"Yes, father, talk to me. Let me hear how mystified you are by my anger," Dorian spat.

"Dorian," his father chided glancing at Cirilla. "There's no need to..."

Dorian cut him off, staring at his father in challenge as he spoke loudly to Cirilla. "I prefer the company of men. My father disapproves."

"This is not exactly news, Dorian," Cirilla said softly.

"And why should it be?" he asked angrily, the ire directed at his father. "Why should anyone care? I have no idea."

"This display is uncalled for," Halward said with distaste.

Dorian continued to glare at him. "No, it _is_ called for. You called for it by luring me here."

"This is not what I wanted," Halward insisted, keeping his own tone calm as Dorian became more and more agitated.

"I'm never what you wanted, father, or had you forgotten?" Dorian spat.

Cirilla was confused. "That's... a big concern in Tevinter, then?"

Dorian glanced at her, his expression smoothing. "Only if you're trying to live up to an impossible standard. Every Tevinter family is intermarrying to distill the perfect mage, perfect body, perfect mind. The perfect leader. It means every perceived flaw... every aberration... is deviant and shameful. It must be hidden." As Dorian turned an accusing glare on his father with the final statement, Halward lowered his head in what looked like shame.

"So that's what all of this is about?" Cirilla wondered in shock. "Who you sleep with?"

"That's not _all_ it's about," Dorian growled.

"Dorian please, if you'll only listen to me," Halward pleaded.

"Why? So you can spout more convenient lies?" He approached his father, wagging a finger at him. "_He_ taught me to hate blood magic. 'The resort of the weak mind'. Those are _his_ words." Dorian paced away and continued. "But what was the first thing you did when your precious heir refused to play pretend for the rest of his life?" He glanced back, his expression devastated. "You tried to _change_ me!"

"I only wanted what was best for you!" Halward argued sadly.

Dorian spun and his accusing finger came up again. "You wanted the best for _you_! For your fucking legacy! Anything for that!" Then he moved away again, leaning on the bar and breathing heavily.

Cirilla moved to his side, landing one hand on his back and the other gripping his bicep. "Don't leave it like this, Dorian. You'll never forgive yourself."

He looked at her, his slate colored eyes shimmering, but he sighed and nodded. Then he moved to address his father again. "Tell me why you came."

"If I knew I would drive you to the Inquisition..." Halward began.

Dorian stopped him with a sharp correction. "You didn't. I joined the Inquisition because it's the right thing to do. Once I had a father who would have known that." he sighed and turned away, ready to storm out dramatically in typical Dorian fashion.

"Once I had a son who trusted me," Halward called after him, stopping him in his tracks. "A trust I betrayed. I only wanted to talk to him. To hear his voice again. To ask him to forgive me."

Pure shock swept over Dorian's features as he glanced at Cirilla who tipped her head toward his father. _Talk to him. _He turned, and with a single cautious step, he approached Halward again. Cirilla slipped out of the tavern to give them privacy.

The sun shone brightly through the wings of the giant griffon statue in the middle of the market district just below the stairs up to the tavern. Cirilla circled the statue, reading the plaque that gave a short dedication to the Hero of Ferelden who had saved the village from the undead during the Blight.

An unfamiliar voice with a familiar accent met her ears as she ran her fingers over the plaque. "You should never have left Skyhold alone, Inquisitor."

She forced her muscles not to tense as she slipped one of her wrist sheathed daggers into her palm. She spun, targeting the direction of the voice and flung the knife. It landed with a smack hilt deep in the chest of an assassin. "And _you_ should not announce your threat," she taunted back, moving to stand over the fallen man and watch him struggle to breathe around his punctured lung. She pulled her knife free. Just as she stood, something stung her neck. She reached up and grabbed at the projectile and realized as her vision started to swim that she had been tagged with a knockout dart. "Well, shit," she murmured, dropping the dart as darkness folded in around her.

Her head was pounding and her thoughts were sluggish. She felt as if she had been chewing on cotton for a few hours. She tried to pry her eyes open, but her lids were heavy. She groaned and attempted to lift her hand to rub at her sockets, but her wrist met resistance. The realization that she was tied down snapped her back to reality. She remembered the dart to her neck as the spot began to throb when her heart sped up. She jerked her arms up, trying to break free of the shackles holding her down. As she struggled against the bonds, she noted that her legs were similarly bound.

Panicking would get her nowhere, so she took a deep breath, closing her eyes and centering herself. It was dark, barely allowing her to see a few inches in front of her. The air she was breathing was damp. She turned her left wrist in the leather that held it and opened her fingers. As more senses returned and the expected glow didn't come, she realized that she was still wearing her gloves. She mumbled a curse and tucked her hand beneath her thigh and attempted to wriggle free of the glove. It was a slow process that had her sweating in no time. When she finally freed the mark to glow, she had to recenter herself to be able to reach out with the mark and brighten it without accidentally opening a rift. Her current circumstances were not conducive to fighting demons. Once she could see a little bit, she glanced around to get an idea of where she was. The walls were organic, as well as the floor. She was strapped to a wooden board, tipped upright so she was nearly standing. Her bindings were leather, a huge mistake. Leather could be stretched. She closed her eyes and reached out with her other senses. She could hear water rushing in the distance. _A waterfall_? Not only was the air damp, but it had an earthy scent that only came from years of moist dirt. Around the sweat of her exertions, a light breeze sent chills over her skin as it made it's way through the cave.

To her dismay, her weapons had all been removed, so she could not cut her bonds. Cirilla twisted her wrists, pulling upwards on the leather with her hands balled into fists. The leather was thick and she almost immediately could feel the friction burns she was causing with her struggles. It meant little if she could free herself. What would Dorian think when he left the tavern and she was nowhere to be found? How long would it take for news of her disappearance to reach Skyhold. If she survived this mess, Bull was going to kill her. She continued twisting and pulling until she heard light footsteps approaching her. She ceased all movement and dropped her chin to her chest, closing her eyes and pretending she was still asleep. She prayed that the glove she had removed would not be noticed. Light blazed from a torch outside her eyelids and she fought not to react.

"Ah, you are lucky indeed, Inquisitor Trevelyan." The man speaking had an Antivan accent. She kept still and silent, waiting, as her mind frantically tried to figure out what an Antivan might want with her. The House of Repose strictly hired Orlesians into their ranks. Had Anselmo bought out a contract with the Crows as well? Did he want her dead that badly? When he realized he was not going to get a response, the man tsked scoldingly. "Now, now, Inquisitor. It may put a damper on my heroic rescue if you continue to pretend you are asleep. Sadly, I do not think I could carry you out of here. The ground is a bit slippery you see." Rescue? Who in Andraste's name was this guy? He hadn't hurt her yet, or given her a reason to be concerned. More curious. She slowly lifted her head and set suspicious eyes on the Antivan. He was tall and lithe, his bone structure marking him as elven. He wore tightly fitted black clothing layered completely down his arms and legs with thin plates stacked like the scales on a dragon that moved as fluidly as he did. The cloak he wore was tattered at the bottom that only reached just above the backs of his knees. It was topped with a hood that sported a rather impressive crow's skull helm shaped from silverite just as the plates were. Beneath the shadow of the beak of his helm, he smirked at her with pouty lips, large light brown eyes sparkling with mischief, and a distinct tattoo on his left cheek that traced the contours of his face from just above his eyebrow to the tip of his jaw below his cheekbones. Light blonde wisps of hair hung from inside his hood to frame his face. "Ahhh, there she is."

"Who _are_ you?" she croaked, her throat parched.

He put those pouty lips to use as he pursed them. "I see my reputation does not proceed me quite as dramatically as your lovely spymaster's does. No matter. I am Zevran Araini, Zev to my friends, formerly of the Antivan Crows. Currently, I am being paid a great deal of coin to keep _you_ from being assassinated." He shrugged lightly, coming up from the short bow he had performed, before adding. "I suppose it could also be considered a favor to a very old friend."

Cirilla stared at the elf, her drug addled mind slowly recognizing the name he had given her. He had been with the Hero of Ferelden during the Blight, just like Leliana. She nodded slowly. "What happened to..."

He cut her off, stepping closer to slip a thin knife between her wrists and the leather. "The men who took you? They have been left in a rather compromising position in a very public place with a letter attached to the rear of the one on top warning them and their associates that the Inquisitor is under the protection of the Crows." When she raised a brow, hissing as the leather slipped from her chafed wrists, he chuckled. "That of course is a stretch of the truth. I am but one Crow that is a Crow no longer, but all that matters is that the seal is legitimate and they caught a glimpse of my attire as I trussed them up like roast pigs." he knelt and cut the leather on her ankles and then helped her down from the angled board.

"I don't suppose you have a water skin?" she asked, swallowing what felt like gravel, her throat swollen.

He handed her a full water skin and she drank greedily. "You may wish to have the mage you traveled with take a look at where the dart pierced your skin. It is rather discolored."

"How long was I here?" she croaked, slowing down with the water as it started to churn uncomfortably in her stomach.

"No more than a few hours," he said, waving off her concern. "I am willing to wager that he is still reconciling with his father and has not missed you yet."

Zevran helped her from the cave that was hidden by the waterfall she had heard earlier. Outside, he had a horse waiting. He hopped on it's back easily and leaned down to give her a hand up. She felt sluggish and clumsy, the drug still wearing off. Once she was up, she draped herself around his back and hung on as tightly as she could when he urged the horse into a slow trot.

The cave was situated in the hills behind Redcliffe farms and Zevran led the horse easily through the rocky terrain, keeping off the roads until they reached Redcliffe itself. With impeccable timing as well, he stopped the horse outside the Gull and Lantern just as Dorian was closing the door behind him. Dorian turned and his eyes fell on her draped over Zevran. Sparks of magic ignited in his palms. Cirilla noted the redness in his eyes even as he prepared to protect her. "You had better have an extremely good reason for..."

Cirilla didn't let him finish. She lifted her leaden arm to wave off his hostility. "S'okay, Dorian," she slurred. "Leliana... hired him." The pain in her neck was really not getting better and she cringed.

Zevran managed to sling a leg over the horse and slide off, still holding her aloft, then he helped her down. She leaned her weight on him briefly as the world stopped spinning. "I would introduce myself properly, but your Inquisitor seems to be in need of healing magic."

"Sweet Maker," Dorian mumbled as Zevran helped to keep her from tripping over her own feet as they stumbled toward him. The lightning in his palms died and he took her from Zevran. She leaned her face against him and inhaled. The perfumes he always wore gave him the light scent of woodsmoke mixed with earth, she found herself noting that since he had been on the road, the scent of parchment that normally clung to him was absent. "What have you gotten yourself into, Cirilla? I only left you alone for a couple of hours."

"Can't take me anywhere," she joked airily as he held her at arms length, his fingers examining the mark on her neck. She hissed in discomfort.

"I certainly can't take you back to Skyhold in this state. I don't relish the Bull hanging me by my thumbs in the dungeon," he mused. "Let's get you inside, shall we? Get cleaned up and I'll look at this more closely."

"I will not be far," Zevran said with another short bow before hopping back on the horse and leading it away.

"Thank you!" she called after him, hoping he heard her small voice over the horse's hoof beats.

After Dorian had seen to her neck, and she had cleaned herself up, he insisted she take a nap after getting a meal in her. She felt a hundred percent better when she awoke, rolling to see Dorian sitting in a chair across the room from her, facing the window where the moon shone through the glass, casting a dim light that met the dim flicker of the candle light from the bedside table. He heard her stirring and turned to glance at her briefly before turning his saddened expression back toward the window. She stood and padded over to him, laying a hand on his shoulder. He was silent for another few moments before he sighed. "He says we're alike. Too much pride. Once I would have been overjoyed to hear him say that. Now I'm not certain. I don't know if I can forgive him."

She squeezed his shoulder lightly and sat in the chair beside his. "He tried to change you?"

"Out of desperation," he cringed lightly. "I wouldn't put on a show, marry the girl, keep everything unsavory private and locked away." He turned a sad smile on her. "Selfish, I suppose, not to want to spend my entire life screaming on the inside. He was going to do a blood ritual. Alter my mind. Make me... acceptable. I found out. I left."

Cirilla drew back in horror. "Can blood magic actually do that?"

"Maybe," he shrugged. "It could also have left me a drooling vegetable. It crushed me to think he found that absurd risk preferable to scandal." His fist balled in his lap and she reached over and took his hand in hers, prying his fingers loose. "Part of me has always hoped he didn't really want to go through with it. If he had... I can't even imagine the person I would be now. I wouldn't like that Dorian."

"Are you all right?" she asked gently, feeling the tension in his hand as she held it.

"No. Not really." He paused and then he looked up at her from where he had been watching their hands. "Thank you for bringing me out here. It wasn't what I expected, but... it's something." He brushed a tear away that had escaped his eye as he spoke. "Maker knows what you must think of me now, after that whole display."

"She squeezed the hand she was holding. "I think you're very brave."

"Brave?" he asked curiously.

"It's not easy to abandon tradition and walk your own path," she said, speaking from experience.

His mustache quirked as he smiled genuinely before clearing his throat and shuddering as if shaking off his emotions. "At any rate..." he pulled a bottle from the table near the window, offering it to her. "Time to drink myself into a stupor. It's been that sort of day."

She took the bottle and took a short swig of it, used to being given drinks that burned her throat. The wine was shockingly sweet and she took another sip before handing it back to him. They drank in silence for a bit, simply enjoying each other's company.

Cirilla was floating in a haze when Dorian finally broke the silence. "So that elf who brought you back..."

She chuckled, imitating his accent. "Zevran Araini... Zev to his friends..." She took the bottle from Dorian and dropped the feigned accent. "Apparently Leliana enlisted an old friend to keep the House of Repose off of me."

Dorian chuckled as well, taking the bottle back before she could even get a sip. "Cirilla, dear, he returned you half dead."

"Half dead is better than all of the way dead," she pointed out slumping in her chair. "I got ambushed when I left here alone. They drugged me and abducted me. When I came to, Zevran had apparently left them 'in a rather compromising position in a very public place with a letter attached to the rear of the one on top warning them and their associates that the Inquisitor is under the protection of the Crows'," she quoted.

Dorian let out one of his barking single note laughs. "I like him already."

When they returned to Skyhold, Cole was hovering near the main gates, constantly flickering between the exit and a very angry Iron Bull. "She's all alone. Needs a frontline bodyguard. Kadan. Alone. No answers in the Qun for this," he mumbled.

When Cirilla hopped from her horse, she calmly and kindly shooed Cole away so she could approach Bull alone. He was pacing back and forth, apparently in another world because he hadn't even seen her, Zev and Dorian ride into the courtyard. She approached him cautiously. "Kadan?"

His head snapped around at the sound of her voice and the snort of anger he made might have been humorous if he hadn't started to charge toward her. He met her in two swift strides and his large hands wrapped around her upper arms."Ashkost kata?" He growled, followed by a slew of more Qunari curses. He was frenzied and when she attempted to speak, he only tightened his grip and continued to shout.

Finally, she figured out what she needed to do. He had taught her enough that this might just work. "Shanedan, pashaara! Kost, Kadan..." She pushed her hands up between them and flattened her palms on his chest. The gesture and her use of Qunlat gave him pause and his grip loosened lightly as he looked down at her with a mixture of pride, concern, and still a hint of his anger. "Ebasit kata," she continued. "Ebasit maraas."

"Aargh," he growled, jerking her off her feet before hugging her against him. "You don't have to go all native on me."

She giggled as he crushed her with his hug. "I didn't survive assassins the other day to get crushed by my lover."

"Oh for fucks..." he set her down. "There were assassins?" he asked in exasperation.

"There's always assassins," she sighed, stepping in to wrap her arms around him. "Thanks to Leliana, though, we now have our own assassin on the payroll until this mess is cleared up."

His eye flicked toward the main gates where Leliana had come down to greet Zevran. The elf was laughing loudly as Leliana set an amused scowl on him, her arms crossed in exasperation. Leliana shook her head, rolled her eyes and waved a hand at Zevran which made him laugh all the louder before slinging his arm over her shoulders and leading her off, chatting amiably. "It takes all kinds," Bull grumbled before his attention fell back on her. "Are you sure you're all right, Kadan?"

She nodded, tracing around his dragon's tooth with a finger. "Dorian patched me up. I wasn't really even hurt. Whatever knock out drug they used on me was strong."

"Do me a favor, then," he asked, making her tip her head. "Don't go off without telling me."

"I didn't mean to worry you, but I knew you would protest if I asked to go with Dorian alone. This was something highly personal for him and I didn't think it was a good idea to have anyone tagging along," she explained softly.

He grumbled again, but rolled his eye. "Damned red heads." She laughed lightly and patted his chest before moving to head for the stairs up so she could go to her quarters and get cleaned up. Before she got far, she was jerked off her feet and found herself thrown over Bull's shoulder. "You don't get off that easily," he threatened, making her heart race as he toted her off for her punishment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of translation for the Qunlat :-)  
Ashkost kata: Are you looking to die?  
Shanedan, pashaara! Kost, Kadan: I hear you, enough! Peace, my heart.  
Ebasit kata: It's over.  
Ebasit maraas: It's nothing.


	12. Empress of Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a long chapter in which Cirilla returns to the Orlesian court. And Zevran finally 'picks' a lock!

They were less than a day's carriage ride from the Winter Palace. Cirilla could barely contain herself. It was every bard's dream to attend a royal ball. This was where she shone. Her whole life, she had trained to blend in with the nobility while stealthily gathering as much information as she could to benefit her patron. The only difference this time was that she was there for the benefit of the Inquisition. She was her own patron.

She had been keeping up with the state of the empire via reports from Josephine and Leliana, tipping scales from behind the scenes to benefit their cause. Tonight, it would all come together. She would root out the assassins, help settle the throne and try not to get herself killed in the process.

Josephine had spared no expense in dressing up Cirilla and her entire entourage. They were traveling by carriage to ensure they arrived at the Winter Palace in pristine condition, their formal attire untouched by the dirt kicked up by the horses. Across from her in the carriage, Varric and Sera shared a bench. Not much could be done about Sera's hair, but the brown hide pants, tall matching boots, and gold trimmed red doublet she wore made her look much more kempt than her usual misaligned leggings and shirt. She kept fidgeting with the belt and blue sash that matched Cirilla's dress. All of her companions were dressed identically. Varric's usual tuft of chest hair that peeked from his tunic was hidden beneath the buttoned up doublet, but he seemed more at ease in the formal wear than Sera who refused to put on her mask or gloves until the carriage rolled to a stop outside the golden gates of the Winter Palace, nor would she allow any of the servants to apply any makeup to her face.

Bull sat beside Cirilla, his arms crossed over his beefy chest and a scowl on his face. Much to her chagrin, Cirilla could not focus on his tensed pectorals because, like Varric's chest hair, they were hidden behind the specially tailored doublet that Josephine had forced him to wear. One did not show up at the Winter Palace wearing nothing on one's chest but a strip of leather and a pauldron. His silver eye patch had been replaced with a similarly shaped mask whose opposite eye matched Cirilla's own mask. He sat very still, refusing to turn his head after he had bumped his horns a number of times on the low ceiling of the carriage.

Between Josephine and Vivienne putting their heads together, Cirilla had been decked out in all of the finery that befitted her rank, setting her above her advisers and companions. The dress she wore was made of a fine silk that fell over her curves like water, It was dyed the same midnight blue as her eyes. Over top of the silk was a layer of silver chiffon that sparkled whenever she shifted. The slippers on her feet were the same silver color with tiny sapphires adorning the edges. There was a short heel that added two inches to her height and kept the flowing fabric of the dress from dragging along the floor when she walked. The neck of the dress was off her shoulders, leaving her neck and collarbone exposed aside from the dragon's tooth necklace. The tooth itself dangled below the collar of the dress, nestled between her breasts, and the chain shimmered right along with the chiffon. The sleeves, comprising of only the silver patterned fabric hugged her upper arms and flowed outwards so they flared at the wrists, leaving her the opportunity to put to use another of Dagna's inventions. They were wiry bracelets of silverite, layered atop each other, pinned together on her forearm by deadly, razor thin blades that could be triggered to spring free with the twitch of her wrist which tugged on the delicate chain in her palm that attached to rings on her middle fingers. To the naked eye, the bracelets looked like nothing more than sparkly jewelry. She had also slipped garters atop the knee length leggings she wore, around her thighs, that carried a few more of the hidden blades. In her hair, that had been curled outwards in small ringlets, a crown of crystal grace rested, pinned by more tiny weapons, the light blue of the flowers drawing even more attention to her blue eyes that had been winged with khol and then shadowed in a powder blue. Over top most of her upper face, she had designed the mask that the entire Inquisition was wearing. Her eyes were wreathed with a sunburst and the Sword of Mercy pierced downwards over each eye. The symbol of the Inquisition.

Cirilla was comfortable in her attire, and she felt ready to face the Imperial Court. In the carriage ahead of hers, Zevran rode with her advisers, decked similarly to the others in the red doublet and blue sash. Once they arrived, it was his job to tail her discretely, making certain that the only person that had to be concerned over assassins was the Empress. She had watched him prepare all number of poison antidotes and slip dozens of his own hidden weapons in his clothing personally. He was definitely prepared for anything.

Without his ax, Bull was on edge. "This _feels_ like a trap, Boss," he grumbled as their carriage began to slow.

"We're in Orlais, Tiny," Varric chuckled. "Everything's a trap."

"That does _not_ make me feel better," Bull grunted, laying his eye on Varric and wrinkling his nose.

Cirilla patted his thigh and smiled at him as best she could around the feature hiding mask. She had forgotten how much less expressive a face could get behind a small bit of silver. "It's just one night. We've been through much worse," she reminded him calmly.

"_I'd _rather be fighting a dragon," Sera said matter-of-factly, feeling the carriage stopping and snatching her mask from the seat beside her and fitting it to her face. It had been a task to get molds of everyone's faces to have the masks made special so they wouldn't fall off, and wouldn't need to be mounted or tied off, but it had paid off in the end. The craftsmanship was exquisite.

Varric shrugged. "If I were you, Ribbons, I would think assassins would be the least of my worries. Ruffles is going to kill you if you get blood on that dress."

Cirilla chuckled. "I'll just leave the heavy lifting to the three of you, then," she replied jokingly as the door of the carriage was opened.

Bull conscientiously exited first, tipping and maneuvering his horns so he looked graceful in spite of the curses that accompanied the effort. Sera followed and then Varric, leaving Cirilla as the main event. Her companions had formed a discreet circle around her so a stray arrow couldn't take her out before she even passed through the beautiful golden gates of the Winter Palace. A row of Inquisition soldiers lined both sides of the cobbled path that led into the large garden courtyard that decorated the entrance of the massive white marbled palace. Everywhere you looked, there were golden statues, mostly of lions, and blue accents that were common in Orlesian architecture. Cirilla took it all in as she strolled importantly through the gates, miraculously remembering not to allow her jaw to drop. Skyhold, though less shiny, was much more impressive.

The courtyard doubled as a decorative entrance to the Palace, adorned in dozens of planters filled with any number of colorful flowers and trees. Fountains dotted the gardens as far as she could see. Two grand staircases swirled upwards from either side of the central landscaping, meeting in the middle where a wide balcony stood behind another set of gates that had been flung wide. More stairs on both sides led up to second story balconies that hovered over the lower ends of the main entry, supported by marble columns. Before she could even make it a few feet past the first set of gates, she was greeted by a man who she would have recognized even without his elaborate formal armor and golden mask. Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons. Empress Celene's cousin and the number one contender for her throne. He seemed eager to approach her and make her acquaintance, and Josephine's words echoed in her mind as she dipped in a polite curtsy as he bowed to her. _The Grand Duke is only too happy to have us at the ball as his guests, so our invitation comes from him. Whether we act as his allies, or upset the balance of power, he gains an opportunity... If not a clear advantage._ Cirilla took in the Duke's puffed out turquoise trousers, tucked in his boots that rose to his knees. They were topped with an elaborate hauberk that was many colors, the most prominent being a dull yellow. Cirilla would not have been surprised if beneath it he wore a cuirass, judging from the unnatural shape of his chest. He was similarly armored from his shoulders to his elbows, by ridiculously pointed vambraces that stuck straight out when he crossed his arms. His mask was gold, clashing with the dull metal of his vambraces and it concealed his face from his hairline to his upper lip. It held a laughing expression with a nose that extended unnaturally long into a sharply pointed tip. The light beard he kept seemed to continue straight up into his hair, because there was no distinction between the length of either, both military short. As he spoke and rose from his bow, Cirilla noted the strange length of his earlobes, before she noted the ice blue color of his eyes. That was how narrow the eye slits were on his mask. "Inquisitor Trevelyan! We meet at last! I've heard so much about you. The rumors coming out of the Western Approach say you battled an army of demons." He crossed his arms, the elbows of his vambraces jutting forward. "Imagine what the Inquisition could accomplish with the full support of the rightful Emperor of Orlais!"

Cirilla set her mouth in a smile, fully aware that her mouth was her most exposed feature. "I can see many benefits to such an alliance."

He nodded slightly, but his tone was much more dark than it had been during his greeting. "Keep the image firmly in hand, We may see it materialize by the end of the evening. I am not a man who forgets his friends, Inquisitor. You help me, I'll help you." Then he allowed the mirth back into his voice again. "My lady, are you prepared to shock the court by walking into the Grand Ball with a hateful usurper? They will be telling stories of this into the next age."

She attempted to bow politely out of the conversation. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Duke Gaspard. I look forward to ending this civil war."

"As do I, my friend. The empire needs stability and security, now more than ever. If you have the safety of the Orlesian people at heart, Inquisitor, perhaps you will look into something for me. This elven woman Briala... I suspect that she intends to disrupt the negotiations. My people have found these 'ambassadors' all over the fortifications. Sabotage seems the least of their crimes."

With her same accommodating smile, Cirilla tipped her head in a slight nod. "That sounds like something I should look into."

Gaspard sighed heavily. "Be as discreet as possible. I detest the Game, but if we do not play it well, our enemies will make us look like villains. We're keeping the court waiting, Inquisitor. Shall we?"

"I will be just a moment, Your Grace. I wish to be certain everything is in order with my people and tour the gardens before I enter the ballroom," she said without breaking etiquette by outright denying the offer.

With a curt nod, he allowed her to slip from the conversation, letting her know he would be waiting outside the ball room in the vestibule. Cirilla may never have been to the Winter Palace, but that made the rules of an Orlesian social function no different. She flowed through the crowd, mumbling following her as she feigned interest in the flower beds and fountain sculptures. Information was everywhere if one knew how to listen. By some miracle, or a combination of Josephine and Leliana's skills, her history as a bard was still unknown, so the majority of those she passed would turn and huddle among themselves, whispering as if she were some idiot Marcher who didn't know how to hear precisely what they were saying as she idly wandered. Cirilla could feel Zevran around every pillar, her constant shadow. The others had already headed inside.

When she found the opportunity, she slipped off the beaten path to have her own search for hidden things. She knew that dark corners were precisely the place to look if she wanted to gain some leverage. She came across a locked door beneath one of the balconies, ringed with shadowboxed statues around the frame. She grinned, recognizing the mechanism. To open the door, she would need the proper statue to fill the empty box above her head on the right. She studied the ornate door and took note of the pair of halla engraved in gold at the top of the arch. "I believe I have what you need, my dear Inquisitor." Zevran's voice startled her briefly and she spun to see him grinning at her through his mask, his golden hair now visible that he wasn't wearing his Crow armor and skull hood. He wore the shoulder-length locks in a simple half up style, two braids holding back the sides. He looked just as confident in the Inquisition uniform as he had in his own armor, standing with a particular swagger in his hips as he held a small statue in his palm. It was golden in color, a standing halla set in a rectangular base. "I found it set rather discreetly beneath a bench on the balcony above. It looked useful, if not valuable, so I gave it a new home in my pocket."

He reached around her, plunking the statue into the groove of the box. Cirilla heard the click of the mechanism and she grinned. "It seems you are useful after all," she teased, backing into the now open door.

He chuckled lewdly, "If you were not already involved with your Qunari friend, I would very much enjoy showing you precisely how useful I can be."

She snorted, turning and glancing around the small storage space they had discovered. There were a few useful documents squirreled away beneath a potted plant, and she also found a tiny caprice coin. She had always enjoyed the intricacies of watching how many of the nobles would approach the fountain at a party and toss a caprice in. The game was a status symbol, letting those attending see that you cared so little for money that you could just throw it away on a whim. The documents she could pass to Leliana, and the coin she kept for her own amusement.

Realizing she was keeping Gaspard waiting, she slipped back onto the balcony and headed for the main entry into the Palace Vestibule, and Zevran disappeared back into the crowd. Josephine was waiting for her and nervously looked her over as she approached. "Inquisitor, a moment, if you please?" Josephine knew Cirilla's past, and was aware that she was versed in the Game, but she had been fretting for a week. Cirilla smiled kindly and allowed her to yet again remind her how things should go. "I'm sure you know how to handle most nobility, but the Game is nothing like the Free Marches' intrigues. It is no simple matter of etiquette and protocol. Every word, every gesture is measured and evaluated for weakness."

"Josie," Cirilla said with a light giggle. "I'll keep my guard up, don't worry."

"The Game is like Wicked Grace played to the death. You must never reveal your cards. When you meet the empress, the eyes of the entire court will be upon you. You were safer in the Fade with the fear demon," Josephine reminded her unnecessarily.

"You are just full of joy and light this evening," Cirilla teased as Josephine scowled at her dismissal.

"Everything will be fine," Josie said as if trying not to hyperventilate. If Cirilla was getting this speech, she couldn't imagine the ones she had given Sera and Bull. Cirilla stepped past her ambassador and Josie mumbled, "Andraste watch over us all."

Inside the entrance, the air was cool, but the familiar scent of Orlais met Cirilla's nostrils in a wash. She closed her eyes and inhaled the heady blend of floral perfumes, roasted meats and specialty cheeses, and the hint of leather and furniture polish. The stairs up were wide enough that at least five people could have walked abreast. They were lined with a thin tread in royal blue, the handrails golden. Cirilla carefully made her way to the top, seeing the rest of her people waiting for her. Cullen and Bull stood side by side, both of them looking like they would have preferred to be anywhere else. Their arms were crossed and the expressions beneath their masks were so similar that Cirilla had to fight the urge to giggle. Sera was taking in everything around her with an amused smirk that bordered on devious, and Varric was quite successfully hiding behind Bull as he grumbled. "Shit. I just saw two dwarves from the merchant's guild go inside. If anyone asks, I'm not here."

Cirilla passed by, pausing to give them all a light smile while Josephine took her carefully guarded scroll from her belt that held all of their names and titles for the Herald to announce them. Cullen cleared his throat. "It will take some time to get our men into the palace. I'll alert you when we're ready."

Cirilla followed Josephine to Duke Gaspard who offered her his elbow. She took his arm and his men threw the doors to the ballroom open wide. Cirilla was in awe as Gaspard led her around the rail of the balcony that circled the sunken dance floor. The floors were made of shined tile in diamond patterns, the balusters on the banisters and rails were painted gold. The enormous support columns that lined the room were draped in royal blue curtains. Golden statues lined the dance floor, two per side, flanked by long tables with refreshments atop them. The massive chandelier in the middle of the room hung low so it lit most of the dance floor, decorative sconces along the walls making up for the rest. The dim lighting made the golden accents shimmer that much brighter. A flight of stairs, a landing, and another short flight of stairs took her and Gaspard to the dance floor. The room had gone quiet as the Herald started to announce them when they hit the landing. "And now, presenting... Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons. And accompanying him... Lady Inquisitor Trevelyan, Daughter of Bann Trevelyan of Ostwick!" They paused to bow as the Empress moved to stand behind the railing above the stairs in the opposite side of the rectangular dance floor. The Empress tipped her head in response as the Herald continued. "Vanquisher of the rebel mages of Ferelden, crusher of the vile apostates of the Mage Underground! Champion of the Blessed Andraste herself!"

Her arm tightened around Gaspard's as the Herald called into light her own crisis of faith and he chuckled, "Did you see their faces? Priceless."

Cirilla did not look around, less amused than Gaspard. She focused her sights ahead, glad that the Herald had moved on from her. "Accompanying the Inquisitor... Renowned author Varric Tethras. Head of noble House Tethras, Deshyr or Kirkwall to the Dwarven Merchants Guild. The Iron Bull, leader of the famed mercenary company Bull's Chargers. As the name might imply." Cirilla was tempted to look back at Bull as the Herald made the sarcastic comment, but that would be in poor form. With the next announcement, she nearly lost standing with the court by blurting out a laugh. "Her Ladyship Mai Bhalsych of Korse." Sera's own snort at getting away with editing Josephine's scroll was audible as it carried around the silent room. Cirilla swallowed her bark of laughter and forced her eyes to remain forward. One foot in front of the other. She was being presented to the Empress of Orlais for Andraste's sake. The Herald continued without skipping a beat. "Ser Cullen Stanton Rutherford of Honnleath. Commander of the forces of the Inquisition. Former Knight-Commander of Kirkwall. Lady Leliana, Nightingale of the Imperial Court. Veteran of the Fifth Blight. Seneschal of the Inquisition and Left Hand of the Divine. And Lady Josephine Cherette Montilyet of Antiva City. Ambassador of the Inquisition."

They stopped on the landing beneath the Empress, and another woman stood at her side. The Empress was dressed in a floor length dress that was layered so wide that it stood out a foot from her legs. It was colored the same royal blue as the curtains hanging from the columns, and trimmed in gold. Like Cirilla's dress, it was off her shoulders, revealing her pale skin which matched almost perfectly with her white blonde hair that was done up in a intricate braided style off her neck. Behind her, fanning out like she held the sun on her back was a golden, spiked, decorative shield, the face of the lion of Orlais molded into the middle. Her mask was rounded at the top and shaped to her cheeks only reaching as low as her cheekbones. Unlike Gaspard's, the eye holes were wide and revealing so her perfectly applied makeup was visible around her pale blue eyes. She smiled sweetly.

The woman at her side had strong features, a sharp jaw and dark stare. Her mask matched the Empress' which put her on Celene's payroll or in her family. Her dress was much less puffed up around her legs, and it was a cream color, inlaid with brown around her upper body. The neck of it fanned out behind her in a stiff cowl and on both shoulders, a small red bow rested between the seems of the cowl and sleeves. Her hair was the same color as Celene's and cut drastically short in a similar style to how Krem kept his. She was not smiling.

Gaspard allowed Cirilla to take her arm back and said curtly, "Cousin. My dear sister." So the woman was the Grand Duke's sister. Cirilla remembered her name to be Florianne.

"Grand Duke," the Empress said in a flowing Orlesian accent as she bent her knees in a polite curtsy, her fingers clasped before her, elbows wide. "We are always honored when your presence graces our court."

"Don't waste my time with pleasantries, Celene," Gaspard barked. "We have business to conclude."

Celene waved off Gaspard's curt greeting and still smiling said, "We will meet for the negotiations after we have seen to our other guests."

With a sneer curling his lips, Gaspard bowed low with a flourish of his hands. Then he said, "Inquisitor..." before leaving the landing to, one would assume, mingle.

"Lady Inquisitor," Celene addressed her. "We welcome you to the Winter Palace. Allow us to present our cousin, the Grand Duchess of Lydes, without whom this gathering would never have been possible."

The woman dipped in a curtsy and then said, "What an unexpected pleasure. I was not aware the Inquisition would be part of our festivities." She smirked and began to turn away. "We will certainly speak later, Inquisitor."

Once the Duchess was gone, Celene addressed Cirilla again. "Your arrival at court is like a cool wind on a summer's day."

"I am delighted to be here, Your Majesty," Cirilla said honestly.

"We have heard much of your exploits, Inquisitor. They have made grand tales for long evenings. How do you find Halamshiral?"

Cirilla allowed her eyes to wander around her momentarily and finally said, "I've never seen anything to equal the Winter Palace." Let them think she was being polite when what she was really doing was using their ignorance of her background to boost their confidence that she was just some Marcher.

"We hope you will find time to take in some of it's beauties. Feel free to enjoy the pleasures of the ballroom, Inquisitor. We look forward to watching you dance."

Cirilla bowed low and took her leave. While they had spoken, her people had all spread out, some of them disappearing while others remained in the ballroom. Leliana was waiting for her at the top of the stairs from the dance floor and said discreetly, "Inquisitor. A word, when you have a moment." Then she disappeared into the crowd.

Cirilla was eager to take it all in, admiring the paintings hung around the walls of the ballroom between sconces. Before she got far, she heard an excited squeal. "Josephine! Oh, Josephine, is this her?"

Cirilla stopped, curiosity pulling her to where Josephine stood with a younger woman, looking slightly cross. Josephine sighed and rolled her eyes. "Inquisitor, please allow me to present to you my younger sister. Yvette Gabriella Montilyet."

Yvette's dress was much in style, similar to the one the Duchess wore, but less opulent. Where the Duchess' was brown, Yvette's was and emerald green, and she wore a head wrap with a flopped over adornment that looked like a chef's hat had fallen to the side. Cirilla had seen the same style of hat on many of the guests. She had not been to court since the change in season and it looked to be shaping up to be interesting. "Delighted to meet you, Lady Montilyet," Cirilla said with a smile.

Yvette giggled excitedly. "Inquisitor, I've heard so much about you! But not as much as I want. Josephine writes, but she never _tells_ me anything. Is it true rebel mages in Redcliffe were performing blood rites and orgies before you stopped them?"

"Where did you hear such nonsense?" Josie gasped, her eyes wide.

"Everyone in Antiva says so! Is it true?" Yvette looked at Cirilla expectantly.

Cirilla pressed her lips together and nodded gravely. "Of course. Every word. Especially the parts where everyone was nude."

"I _knew_ it!" Yvette gasped as Josie shot daggers at Cirilla who shrugged with a smirk.

"Tell me about yourself, Lady Yvette. This is the first time I've encountered any of Josephine's family."

Yvette rolled her eyes and it was nearly identical to when Josie would pull the same expression. "She would forget to mention the artists. I've been studying painting under Antiva's royal tutors. You should be proud, Josie. I'm going to be exhibiting my work next season in the city's biggest salon," Yvette announced proudly.

"Have you actually sat down and finished a painting yet?" Josie scolded.

"I must wait for my inspiration," Yvette said with indignation.

"And I must wait for your tutor's bills," Josie mumbled.

"Enjoying the ball?" Cirilla asked to change the subject.

"I see many..." Josie began.

Yvette interrupted in excitement. "The dancing is so dull, Your Worship, but the Empress' gallery is _magnificent_!"

"Yvette..." Josephine sighed.

Yvette bit her lower lip. "Sorry, Josie."

"Go on, Josephine," Cirilla encouraged.

"Half Val Royeaux must be empty, so many of the empire's finest are in attendance. They've noticed the Empress paying you special attention, but they don't quite know how to take advantage of it yet. This uncertainty won't last long, I'm afraid."

Cirilla accepted the information with a nod and then glanced at Yvette with a sly grin. "This may be my only chance to hear about when Josephine was a girl."

Yvette pounced. "Oh, yes! Has she told you about when she was ten and..."

"Yvette. Stop," Josephine warned, her face flushing.

"Fine. What about when we were climbing the cliffs by the..."

"No!" Josephine hissed.

"She once told the Duke of..."

"Absolutely not."

Watching the sisters exchange scathing yet teasing glances made Cirilla smile before Yvette blurted, "She still plays with her doll collection when no one's looking!"

Josephine's cheeks reddened further. "Yvette! That's... absurd. Absolutely preposterous!" she stuttered as Yvette snickered into her fingers.

Cirilla tossed Yvette a wink. "I'll see you later."

"Another time!" she responded excitedly.

Cirilla moved away, admiring the golden filigree vine and fleur de lis decorations on the ceiling above the dance floor, and then lowered her eyes to the statues and paintings dotting the walls. There were small round tables against the walls beneath the paintings where guests could stand to rest their goblets. At the farthest table, nearest the exit to the vestibule, Sera stood alone, grinning madly with a goblet in her fingers. Cirilla smiled and headed over. Sera took her arm and dragged her to the table so she could point and whisper. "Crotch rot. Bests his squire. He's a she. Has a bastard. Extra toes. What a fun, close-marrying crowd." She giggled.

Cirilla smiled in return, her own voice low. "Any thoughts on who we're investigating?"

Sera nodded vigorously, took a sip from her goblet and then said, "The Empress is pretty. It'd be fun to drink and kill stuff with Gaspard. Briala is frigging funny. Elves, elves, elves, but it's really a pissing match with an old lover. Don't know the rest, but that explains a lot." She shrugged sloppily, nearly jostling her sash off her shoulder. "They're all lying, but Celene's nice to look at. Good thing we're here to save her neck."

"Making any friends?" Cirilla teased.

Sera laughed loudly enough that a few heads turned but immediately looked away when they saw Cirilla. "Not likely. I'm watching them watch you. They're all glances and titters, not sure if they're allowed to like you yet. Pathetic."

"Back soon," Cirilla said with a pat to Sera's shoulder where she deftly adjusted the sash without notice.

"Not going anywhere," Sera agreed.

Leliana had asked for a word, but Cirilla did not see her in the ballroom, so she headed for the vestibule. There had been a lot of artwork and finery that Cirilla fully intended to get a look at when they had entered. Just outside the ballroom, Leliana smiled at her. "Good. I was hoping I would catch you." Cirilla properly took Leliana's arm and led her to one of the lounge chairs lined along each wall. They were made of fine leather dyed cream and edged in gold. Leliana sat on the edge of one and asked. "What did the duke say?"

"He points the finger at Ambassador Briala," Cirilla revealed.

Leliana nodded, her lips narrow in thought. "The Ambassador is up to something, but she can't be our main focus. The best place to strike at Celene is from her side." Immediately, Floriannne came to mind, but Cirilla pushed down her suspicion as Leliana continued. "Empress Celene is fascinated by mysticism... foreseeing the future, speaking with the dead, that sort of rubbish..." she flapped her hand and rolled her eyes. "She had an 'occult adviser'. An apostate who charmed the Empress and key members of the court as if by magic. I've had dealings with her in the past. She is ruthless and capable of anything."

Cirilla nodded. "That sounds exactly like the person we're looking for."

"She's worth investigating. Can't be sure of anything here. Both leads point toward the guest wing. It's a promising place to start. I'll coordinate with our spies to see if I can find anything better. I will be in the ballroom if you need me." Leliana stood and with a smile headed back for the ballroom. Cirilla knew that heading directly for the guest wing would look a bit suspicious, so she made herself look busy, doing a circuit of the vestibule and it's beautiful art pieces before slipping into the gallery that Yvette had recommended. The hall leading further into the guest wing had two grand statues in the middle of the walkway to her right, there was a set of stairs leading down into another section where more statues of marble and gold lined the wall. She took the stairs down and perused the art, her ears open as they had been in the gardens. She overheard a pair of servants whispering about a package in the upper room above the garden statuette. She stored the information and headed back up the opposite stairs to move further into the next hall. More guests milled about, gathered around more loungers and tables placed in the middle of the wide hall. It was the perfect place to disappear and listen for some gossip. When she slipped into a side room, she recognized a man that she should speak to. He belonged to the Council of Heralds. If anyone knew the bloodlines of Orlais and who the true leader of the Empire should be, he was the man. She moved up to him and he tipped his head in greeting as she curtsied politely. "Well, well. The Inquisitor. Here as a guest of my nephew, no less. How curious."

Cirilla was completely aware of who was related to whom in Orlais, but it behooved her to play dumb. She smiled and said, "I didn't know the Grand Duke was your nephew."

Duke Germain nodded. "He is my brother's eldest boy. Always a difficult child, Gaspard. Never listened, never did what he was told. He was raised a prince. All his life, we told him he would be Emperor. It was his destiny. His duty. What else should he do with his life, if not fight for his destiny?"

"What can you tell me about the civil war?" Cirilla wondered.

His hands went to his hips. "If you are hoping for insight, you've come to the wrong man. It's war. It is brutal and terrible and sometimes necessary. There's nothing more to say."

Cirilla bowed out. "Another time, my Lord."

It would be a good idea to try and find the rest of the council and get their opinions on everything. She left the room and continued down the richly decorated hall noting a door that would lead her out to the gardens and possibly a way in to the guest wing. She took her time, not deviating from her path through the party, making a show of defending one of the vassals to a Council of Heralds emissary. The man ranted about the emissary not returning for hours. Cirilla's eyes widened at the end of the rant. "Tonight of all nights, leaving me to convey Gaspard's death threats to the Council! Wonderful timing, Philippe!" When the man seemed to realize what he had said, he bowed out of the conversation. "Thank you for listening to me rant. You are too kind, Inquisitor."

Cirilla spotted Bull standing discreetly by one of the snack tables, his arms crossed. There was an irritated look on his face that she would not have caught if she wasn't so used to his mannerisms. She sidled up to him, pausing and his eye flicked briefly over her. It was not a sensual appraisal, just checking to be certain she was all right. Then he grumbled. "You got anything that needs killing? Because the nobles keep messing with me, and they think I don't know they're doing it. This keeps up, I"m going to wear somebody's skull as _my _fancy little mask."

Cirilla poked her bottom lip out in sympathy, resisting the urge to reach out and pat his arm as she shook her head, letting him know there was nothing to kill yet. Instead, she said, "Any interest in a dance?"

His expression lightened as he chuckled softly. "Oh, shit, the nobles would love that! Can you imagine Josephine's face, trying to explain that we were..." then he frowned slightly. "Wait, were you serious? Because if so, then yeah, absolutely. I mean, once we stop the assassins and all that." His mouth curled up in a lopsided grin.

Cirilla's own lips quirked upwards as she imagined being swept across the ball room floor nestled in Bull's strong arms. Then she watched his eyes trail over her again, this time with the lust she was used to. Clearing her throat, she said, "Look at this with the eye of a Ben-Hassrath, and tell me what you see."

He continued to grin, but he didn't even need to look around. He had already performed what she was asking of him. "It's a mess. Everyone's trying so hard to hide that they're walking around in plumage. Makes it tough to spot the dangerous lies, as opposed to the normal stuff. Oh, but that couple over there with the silver masks?" He tipped his head ever so slightly and she flicked her eyes briefly to where he indicated. "The woman's doing one of the nobles, and the guy's doing two different servants."

She snickered lightly. "What do you think of the masks the nobles are wearing?" She had noted herself that since her time in court, the masks had gotten thinner and in some cases much smaller. She wondered briefly if it was because the bigger your name got and the higher in the Game you climbed, it got that much harder to conceal everything, so they stopped trying.

"They're no good as disguises, and they don't cover the mouth or hide body language, so they're not much help for lying," he pointed out arching his brow beneath his own half mask. "As fashion goes... I don't know. I've seen dumber?"

If he had a read on the entire room, she had to ask. "Anything catching your eye?"

"They've got these candied nuts with some kind of spice on them. It's sweet until you swallow, and then, BAM, hot!" When she grinned at him and crossed her arms he balked. "Uh, nothing on the assassins, though."

"Talk you you later, Bull," she snickered, walking past and brushing discreetly against him to which he responded with a grunt of promise that made her cheeks flush. Thank the Maker for her mask.

"I'll just stay here and eat," he said casually.

A few more clues around the hall told her about disappearances of servants in the guest wing. She needed to get in there. She headed for the door that would take her to the garden outside and when she stepped through, she recognized a familiar strumming lute and saw Maryden briefly before she was blocked by a row of three women dressed identically. "My lady! My lady Inquisitor!" One of them said, hailing her.

They stopped in front of her and curtsied in unison as a second one spoke. "May we have a word? It is very important."

"The Empress has sent us with a message for you!" The third announced.

So these were Celene's ladies in waiting. Cirilla smiled and said, "I'm always honored to hear from Her Majesty."

The first one that had spoken said, "Oh! She is the honored one, Inquisitor."

Cirilla bobbed her head as she followed the string of conversation as the triplets all spoke in turn as if they shared a brain. "Empress Celene is eager to assist the Herald of Andraste in her holy endeavor."

"She will pledge her full support to the Inquisition as soon as the usurper Gaspard is defeated."

"That is a generous offer," Cirilla agreed, her smile still in place.

"The Empress believes wholeheartedly that the Inquisition is our best hope for peace in these difficult times."

"She looks forward to cementing a formal alliance."

"As soon as Gaspard is out of the way."

"But we have taken enough of your time."

They curtsied again. "Please, enjoy the masquerade, Inquisitor."

She bowed as well and the ladies left the garden to return to Celene's side, no doubt. Cirilla took in the garden and saw the fountain with a statue of Andraste lying in the pool. She made her way over and sat on the edge to listen to Maryden playing, almost wishing it could be her behind the lute. She saw in the bottom of the pool, a number of shimmering coins. Remembering her own caprice, she pulled it from it's hiding place and waited until the glancing eyes fell on her again to flip the coin with her thumb and allow it to fall with a plunk into the water. It floated to the bottom, rocking back and forth before it settled in it's own little nook among some of the other caprices. She heard the interested gasps and muffled comments that followed her demonstration and smiled briefly. It was nice to be back in a gown at a ball. This was where she thrived, even with as good as she had gotten in a combat situation, she was better here. While she sat on the edge of the fountain, she listened and studied her surroundings. There was only one way that she could see that would lead her into the library in the guest wing where she so desperately needed to go. She had discovered the door to the library locked when she had done her circuit of the vestibule. Once she had sat still for a while, doing nothing interesting, the eyes that had been upon her started to dwindle. She glanced around, making certain no one was looking and started to hum a small enchantment. She felt the magic working, drawing attention from her as the light bent around her, making it difficult to see her unless you were specifically looking for her. She got up from the edge of the fountain and slipped around to the trellis that climbed to the balcony above. Gathering her skirts in a fist, she climbed the trellis and hopped over the edge of the railing. She took note of a trail of blood splatter that led from the door to the library and along the balcony to another of the halla locked doors. Frowning, she looked around for one of the statuettes. On the opposite side of the balcony she found her prize sitting atop the rail. She picked it up and hurried back to the door. It wouldn't take long before she was missed. She would need to hurry. She slipped the halla into it's place and the door clicked open. Inside, she was greeted by the sharp smell of fresh death. She covered her nose and mouth with her palm so she cold kneel carefully beside the corpse and search for the cause of death. He had been stabbed, rather brutally a few times. Cirilla gingerly searched his pockets and found a note.

_Celene,_

_We can discuss this like adults, can't we? We both know the weapon at Briala's disposal could not only turn the tide of our war, but every war. The Empire must control it; I do not believe you disagree. She is now a greater threat to Orlais than anything else. If you and I work together, we can wrest control away from her. Do not deceive yourself that she will be open to negotiation or diplomacy. You know her better than anyone... you know that's impossible._

_Gaspard_

Cirilla felt her eyes widen. What in the Maker's name could Briala possibly have that held such power? She stood from her crouch and tucked the note away for Leliana. Then she hurriedly followed the blood trail back to the library. A set of six urns decorated the main section of library and the blood trail led between them to the rear of the room between two bookshelves where it was smeared in an arc. There had to be a false shelf that opened into something. She searched the shelves surrounding it looking for the mechanism. She pulled on each of the books, and finally one of them gave resistance and she heard a click. The shelf popped slightly ajar and she smiled. Opening the door, she found herself in a small office filled with magical artifacts and an ornate desk.

She carefully rifled through the desk, not certain exactly what she was looking for, but knowing that this had to be the desk of Celene's occult adviser. She found another short note.

_Lady M,_

_I need you at my side tonight. The unpleasantness in the royal wing has convinced me there is no safety within the palace. I do not expect my cousin to employ magic, but I would hardly be surprised if he provoked another infestation; since my court enchanter is not here to assist me, I must rely entirely upon you. There is no one else I can trust._

_Celene_

Cirilla knew that the court enchanter that Celene referred to was Vivienne, but Celene seemed to trust this 'Lady M' that the note referred to. There was no way that the Empress was so gullible to trust an apostate unless blood magic was involved. It would take someone of great skill and finesse to get in so close to the Empress by using blood magic. Something else was in play here. What unpleasantness in the royal wing? Cirilla had a slew of other questions flipping through her brain when she jumped as the bell signaling the start of something in the ball room rang loudly throughout the library. She swiftly slipped from the hidden room, pushing the shelf back into place and hurried through the rest of the vast library, hoping that the doors might be unlocked from this side. If not she would need to do the fastest lock-picking that she had ever done. There was no way she would be able to drop back in from the trellis without being seen.

She breathed a sigh of relief when the handle clicked and the door to the vestibule opened, freeing her from the libraries. She was also a little bit saddened that she hadn't had more time to take in the Empress' collection. While Skyhold's library was far from small, it had nothing on the Winter Palace. Straightening her dress, she calmed her rushed demeanor and fixed her smile back into place. Most of the guests were headed toward the ball room, but before she could follow, from behind her an impossible voice spoke up. "Well, well. What have we here?" She turned to see a darkly beautiful woman looking down on her from the top of the stairs she had just slipped down herself. Where had she been hiding? Her golden eyes were fixed on Cirilla from behind black bangs that hung loose from the rest of her hair that was tied back in a haphazard bun. Her dress was as wide as Celene's but was black accented with gold. The top was a deep purple with bits of decorative black lace around the neck and raven feathers on her left shoulder and cut off beneath her breasts by a studded corset. It dipped low, showing off her neck that was adorned in a thick golden neck lace that housed a small green gem in a matching setting. She continued to speak as Cirilla quietly approached her with her same smile still in place even as her eyes judged the situation carefully. "The leader of the new Inquisition, fabled Herald of the faith. Delivered from the grasp of the Fade by the hand of Blessed Andraste herself." She hit the bottom of the stairs and her expression gave away the fact that she believed nothing of the words she was repeating. She wore no mask and Cirilla frowned as she placed her gloved hands on her corseted waist. "What could bring such an exalted creature here to the Imperial Court, I wonder? Do even you know?"

Without skipping a beat, Cirilla answered, casually crossing her own arms. "I'm here on important business concerning the entire empire."

The woman smiled, her painted lips thinning only slightly. "As am I, it seems." Then she dipped her head in a respectful bow. "I am Morrigan. Some call me adviser to Empress Celene on matters of the arcane." So this was Lady M. She moved past Cirilla, forcing her to follow as she headed for the ballroom. "You... have been very busy this evening, hunting in every dark corner of the Palace." She paused and turned, stopping them again near the doors that led to the gallery. "Perhaps you and I hunt the same prey?"

"I hope so," Cirilla agreed cautiously. "I could use another ally here."

Morrigan agreed with a concerned expression. "A sentiment I share, considering recent events."

"Recent events?" Cirilla questioned with a tip of her head.

Morrigan nodded. "Recently I found, and killed, an unwelcome guest within these very halls. An agent of Tevinter. So I offer you this, Inquisitor. A key found on the Tevinter's body." she passed along an ornate key which Cirilla palmed and kept hidden. "Where it leads, I cannot say. Yet if Celene is in danger, I cannot leave her side long enough to search. You can."

Cirilla trusted Morrigan. There was something in her mannerisms and the fact that she was the only mask-less face in the entire Winter Palace that smoothed the process. Cirilla offered her own thoughts. "Briala's people are whispering about disappearances in the servants' quarters. This key may lead there."

"The ambassador does have eyes and ears everywhere, does she not? Proceed with caution, Inquisitor. Enemies abound, and not all of them aligned with Tevinter. What comes next will be most exciting."

Morrigan headed into the ballroom to rejoin Celene, and Cirilla followed so she might speak with Leliana. While she hunted for the spymaster in the bustle of people, she spotted another of the Council of Heralds. The Dowager was an aging woman who had been married so many times that Cirilla had lost count. Each of her husbands had met with creative and tragic accidents. When Cirilla approached, the woman said excitedly, "You are an interesting one. You have quite the silver tongue, Inquisitor. I do hope you put it to good use."

"I'd like your opinion on this gathering, my lady," Cirilla said, making certain her thanks for the compliment showed on her lips.

The Dowager scoffed. "It's doomed to fail, of course. Celene knows that. At least it should be amusing. We haven't had such a menagerie at court in living memory."

"Have you noticed anything odd this evening?" With as much chattering as the Dowager had been doing in the same spot all evening, she was bound to have seen something.

She nodded gravely. "Too few Imperial guards stand in attendance, my dear. A shame. They're so pleasantly decorative."

Cirilla knew an ally she could get behind and the Dowager seemed to like her. It could prove useful. "Would you care to dance, Lady Mantillon?"

She laughed, her voice like a bell. "You, Inquisitor, are a delight. One does not often find foreigners so well-versed in the Game. But you have other dances to perform first. Perhaps you will save me a dance for later?"

Cirilla bowed after nodding. "Good evening, milady."

She found Leliana shortly after, leaning casually near one of the tall drink tables like Sera and watching Cullen with amusement as he fended off the crowd of Orlesians that had gathered eagerly around him. "Leliana," Cirilla greeted her pleasantly.

The former bard offered a short smile before scanning over the crowd again. "Look at Lady Cambienne's slippers. Trimmed with pearls _and_ emeralds? And those buckles! Toss her into the lake, and she'll sink right to the bottom. What a disaster."

"You're different here, than in Skyhold," Cirilla pointed out as Leliana seemed relaxed. "More... approachable, perhaps?"

"This is Halamshiral, Inquisitor. This is the Imperial Court. This is the beating heart of the Great Game. Of course everyone is wearing a mask. I learned this very young. I was still a girl when I attended my first ball. As you know, all this? The smiles, the small talk? It is a dance. And like any dance, it can be learned. For some of us..." she glanced up and down Cirilla with approval. "it has become so familiar that the steps may be performed in our sleep."

"Have you seen anything interesting?" Leliana had the luxury of staying in the ballroom while Cirilla had been all over, unable to gather much idle information.

"Oh, yes. Halamshiral is lousy with scandals and scheming. But no sign of our Tevinter infiltrator, I'm afraid," she said with a sigh.

Cirilla chatted for a few more moments, passing on what she had found before moving away to speak with Celene's triplets, Briala herself, and with Gaspard, giving Leliana the opportunity to gather the others so that they could head into the servants' quarters. Before she could leave the ballroom, however, she was caught off guard by a familiar voice that brought ice to her veins. "Ciri. You have done rather well for yourself. Might I have this dance? Whe have things to discuss, you and I."

She turned to see Anselmo, his hand outstretched and his body bowed in courtesy. It would be considered rude if she declined his dance in front of so many people, and he knew she knew that. His victorious grin was testament to that fact. She gingerly took his hand and he led her onto the dance floor. "What do you want, Annie?" she growled as he pulled her close and began to spin them in a four-step. She owed him nothing. He had hired assassins to kill her.

"Justice? An eye for an eye, perhaps? You have been quite skilled at evading my friends in the House of Repose," he said calmly.

"You knew my skill before you sent assassins after me, Annie."

"And _you_ knew that I sent you to Ferelden with a single purpose, dove. Beirand deserved better than death under the Inquisition."

"It was an impossible situation. You were not the only one who lost people at Haven."

"I trusted you with the security of my nephew, and you abandoned him to the mages at Redcliffe to aspire to a title that you are unworthy of."

She balked, nearly missing a step in the dance. "Do you honestly think I chose this?" she asked, showing him the mark in her hand. "I wanted nothing more than to continue my life behind the scenes. Everything I worked so hard for, including my anonymity, is destroyed."

He laughed heartily. "I know you well enough to know what a convincing liar you can be, Ciri. Trust that whatever excuses and false apologies you may have up your sleeves, I will not be swayed. Your betrayal was clear in your hesitation to reveal yourself to me until Beirand was already dead. Your contract was with me and you broke the terms when you did not report to me. Beirand recognized you and you allowed him to be killed at Haven to cover your betrayal."

"If you're so convinced, why have this conversation at all?" she asked, her smile slipping briefly as she studied his determined scowl beneath his mask.

He chuckled throatily and his hand pressed more tightly to her back. She felt the prick of the sharp protrusion enter her skin and she gasped lightly as he whispered to her. "My dear Cirilla, I learned more from you than you might realize. I also have discovered that buying the contract on your life was a mistake. You are much too clever to allow assassins to take your life, but this... this was far too easy. Enjoy what's left of your life, _Inquisitor. _You do not have much time."

Anselmo dropped her hands, laughing lightly as he walked away and disappeared into the crowd. Her head was already beginning to swim and her skin burned. Before she could make a show of losing her equilibrium in the middle of the Empress' ball, Zevran swooped in and took up her hands, continuing the dance where Anselmo had left off. He supported her with a steadying hand on her back as he led them around the dance floor, her feet unsure. "My dear Inquisitor, it seems I lost you in the garden and when I found you again, I had failed in my duty to prevent an attempt on your life. Luckily, I came prepared. What are your symptoms?"

He needed to ask her a second time, snapping her back to herself with a squeeze of his hand in hers. "Um..." she said hesitantly. "Dizzy... mouth is dry... um..." He squeezed her hand again and she swallowed. "Fire. My skin is on fire."

"Come, my dear Inquisitor. Allow me to get you a drink. You look parched." He took her arm, leading her slowly from the dance floor. They made it to one of the lounge chairs in the vestibule and he sat her down gently, without making it look as though she was unable to stand on her own. He disappeared briefly and reappeared with a small goblet. He uncorked a tiny vial that he produced from one of his belt pouches and dumped the contents into the goblet. "Drink. You'll feel much better."

When she took the goblet from him, she noted his own hands shaking slightly. "You're worried. Why?" she asked, swallowing the contents of the goblet.

"He used Quiet Death. I'm certain you are familiar with the poison..." Zevran explained, his voice as shaky as his hands. "If I had not been as close as I was, with the proper antidote, you would have been dead within the hour and no one would have been the wiser. It would have looked remarkably like natural causes."

As they sat on the bench, the antidote starting to work it's way through the poison, Cirilla was glad that he had found a less public place for them to sit. "Thank you, Zevran. I let my guard down. I should have known better."

"I got a very good look at your would-be assassin. For all he knows, he was successful in his attempt on your life," Zevran said. "If you are feeling better, I will take my leave. I wish to pay him a visit before he makes his escape."

As much as she hated the idea, Anslemo was not going to let this go, and as long as he was alive, the House of Repose would keep coming. "Do what you must, but remember, you are wearing the Inquisition's uniform. We can't be seen assassinating nobles in the Winter Palace."

He chuckled heartily. "It will not be done in the Winter Palace, I assure you." Then he stood and disappeared with purpose. He had seen where Anselmo had gone, she was sure of it.

There had been ample time for Leliana's people to gather Sera, Bull and Varric. Cirilla got to her feet, amazed that the antidote had worked so quickly. Short of a slight fever, she felt much better. She made her way through the gallery to the door that led to the servants' quarters. She apologized for making them wait and with shaky hands, used the key that Morrigan had given her to open the door.

They stepped into a small storage room and Varrci stopped her to hand her daggers over. She gathered up the skirts to her dress and detached them from the top so now all she wore was the top of the dress and her leggings. She kicked off her heels and set them beside the folded bottom of the dress. She rolled her shoulders and tried to shake off the near death experience. Before they could head further into the servants' quarters to investigate, Bull grabbed her upper arm, his eyes studying her. "You look like shit, Boss."

She chuckled wryly, the sound coming out much less reassuring than she had intended. "Being poisoned will do that to a person."

His eye went wide and his hand tightened around her arm. "What?!"

"It's fine," she assured him with a palm to his chest. "Zev had the antidote I needed, and now he is very discretely dealing with the problem."

Bull growled, the sound rumbling through her palm. "That asshole had better hope he doesn't survive the elf... If I get my hands on him..."

"We have more important things to worry about," she reminded him. "Zev will handle Anselmo."

Still grumbling, Bull followed her down the narrow stairs that led to a small kitchen. They smelled the bodies before they saw them. Sera gagged as they realized that most of the casualties were servants. "Caught in the middle of this crap. What fully qualified arsehole stops to kill a cook?"

Varric made an understanding sound. "Assassins are a shy lot. Can't have dangerous bakers raising alarms."

"Food was good, too," Sera grumbled. "Bastards."

"These must be the elves Briala's people are looking for," Cirilla knelt briefly to close the eyes of the nearest body.

"Whoever did this oughta be down here somewhere," Sera suggested.

Agreeing, Cirilla got to her feet and padded from the kitchens. They were in another garden. This one was laid out like a maze, but it was not difficult to navigate. In the middle of the gardens, lying near a fountain was another body. This one was out of place. A dagger stuck from his back, and Cirilla recognized the clothing that was worn by the majority of the Council of Heralds. "This was no servant. What was he doing here?"

Sera nodded as Cirilla knelt again to examine the dagger. "This guy's way too fancy to belong down here. What's his story?"

"Is that... Gaspard's family crest on the hilt of that dagger?" Cirilla's eyes widened. "Time to have a word with the Duke."

A shout drew their attention to an entrance to the fountain from the other side of the hedges. Cirilla got to her feet, her daggers in her hands. An elven servant came running into the fountain courtyard, but was stopped in her tracks by the double slash of daggers to the back. She dropped and Cirilla watched the assassin throw something to the ground before she disappeared in the smoke she had created. Cirilla swiped the smoke from her vision and saw the Harlequin vault up a few walls to reach a balcony on a nearby building. Below, there were still more enemies to attend to. "Venatori agents!" Cirilla identified as the attackers descended on them. She ducked below a spell slung at her and gingerly rolled out of sight behind the fountain to draw the shadows around her and emerge on the other side to flank a pair of Venatori. She buried her daggers each in the back of the pair and then ghosted out of sight again to sneak up behind a third while her companions handled the rest. She managed to make it through the fight without getting blood on her top, so she called it a win. "The Venatori were watching this approach. They're organized," she pointed out.

They needed to track and deal with the Harlequin that had escaped up the wall. They headed through the garden and into the building. It was decorated much less lavishly than what she had seen so far and realized that this was the servants' quarters. There were more bodies strewn througout the building, along with more Venatori to deal with. Cirilla was especially careful to not do too much spinning as she sliced through their enemies. She had an entire evening to get through in the dress. Blood stains would certainly loose her standing with the court. They cleared out the Venatori and managed to best the Harlequin. As one of the mages tried to flee, Sera took aim with her bow, but the man crumbled before he had a chance to round the corner out of sight. From beyond the doorway, Briala stepped confidently. "Fancy meeting you here," she said with a smirk. "Shouldn't you be dancing, Inquisitor? What will the nobility say?"

"Ambassador. We meet again," Cirilla said cagedly.

"Your reputation for getting results is well deserved," Briala said from behind her mask that slightly resembled Celene's. There were minute details of difference that set her apart. "You cleaned this place out." She stepped onto the balcony that the Harlequin had climbed to through the smoke. It will take a month to get all the Tevinter blood off the marble. I came down to save or avenge my missing people, but you've beaten me to it. So... the Council of Heralds' emissary in the courtyard... that's not your work, is it?"

_His name was Phillipe._ Cirilla recalled the ranting emissary in the hall had mentioned the name of his missing friend. "He was dead when I arrived," she confirmed.

"I expected as much," Briala said with a nod. "You may have arrived with the Grand Duke, but you don't seem to be doing his dirty work. I knew he was smuggling in chevaliers, but killing a council emissary? Bringing Tevinter assassins into the palace? Those are desperate acts. Gaspard must be planning to strike tonight."

"Are you sure he's behind this?" Cirilla asked, not as convinced. She had been talking to everyone. Gaspard seemed the least likely to have been responsible for Tevinter assassins. "He was too... easygoing for a man plotting treason."

"Don't let his charm blind you. He's Orlesian. That smile is his mask," Briala warned. Then she uncrossed her arms and studied Cirilla. "I misjudged you, Inquisitor. You might just be an ally worth having. What could you do with an army or elven spies at your disposal? You should think about it."

Cirilla was turning down nothing that might give her an advantage and she smiled sweetly. "I would consider such an alliance."

"We can help each other, Inquisitor. We are both outsiders here, after all. I know which way the wind is blowing. I'd bet coin that you'll be part of the peace talks before the night is over. And if you happen to lean a little bit our way? It... could prove advantageous to us both. Just a thought."

Briala left, hopping from the balcony and Varric chuckled. "Every single major player has tried to bribe you tonight. In Orlais, that means you've officially arrived."

"Call it politics or the Game or whatever, that's personal hate," Sera pointed out with a thoughtful snigger.

Bull was uncharacteristically quiet and he was watching her carefully. They made their way back to the storage room where her things were waiting for her. Varric and Sera slipped from the room into the gallery to keep watch. Bull remained, his eye fixed on her. When the others closed the door behind them, he slowly backed her against the stack of crates where her clothes rested. His hand lifted and then came down gently, his wrist to her forehead. "Your temperature is still high, Kadan."

She brushed his hand away, smiling up at him. "It will take some time for the poison to flush completely from my system, but I promise, Zevran got to me in time."

"If you're sure you're going to be fine..." She nodded at his questioning glare and then his expression flipped. Before she knew it, he had grabbed her by the waist, spun her around, bent her over the crates and a resounding crack sounded through the room. Moments later, the sting from the flat slap he had landed on her rear radiated through her body and she bit her lip against the cry that was certain to echo in the mostly empty stone room. He leaned down over her, draping her body with his. "That was just a preview of the punishment you are in for later. You let down your guard and allowed someone you knew wanted you dead within reach. You're better than that, Kadan." She moaned as he lifted himself off her, taking her skirts in his hands and pulling her from the crates to drape the fabric around her waist and secure it back in place. "Now get back out there before they start to ring those damned bells."

Her head was swimming in anticipation as she slipped her feet back in her shoes. Bull called it punishment, but she was hungry for it. She remembered how it had been when she returned from Redcliffe with Dorian. That night had been the most violent she had ever seen Bull and she craved the fear even as it was padded with the safety of 'Katoh'. It took the walk up the stairs to the upper gallery for her to get her head back in the Game, but soon she was listening again. She inserted herself into a conversation between some chevaliers interested in the details of Haven. She shamelessly sent them in Cullen's direction so she could break into the trophy room behind them and continue to search every dark corner. She found a few incriminating documents with Gaspard's seal on them and added them to her collection. She ducked back out of the office behind the trophy room as she heard the bells start to chime again. This time, she made it all of the way into the ballroom before she was intercepted.

"Inquisitor Trevelyan?" The Duchess stopped her near the entryway with a bow. "We met briefly. I am Grand Duchess Florianne de Chalons. Welcome to my party."

"Is there something I can do for you, Your Grace?" Cirilla asked kindly, still not trusting the Duchess.

"Indeed you can," the Duchess said with a coy smile. "I believe tonight you and I are both concerned by the actions of... a certain person. Come, dance with me. Spies will not hear us on the dance floor."

Cirilla swallowed. The last dance she had accepted had nearly killed her. She tentatively followed the Duchess and said, "Very well. Shall we dance, Your Grace?" She held out her hand as Anselmo had done to her.

Florianne took it and smiled again. "I'd be delighted." They descended the stairs to the dance floor and lined up with the rest of the guests as the music began. Florianne wasted no time in beginning her own dance of words as they stepped forward, arms outstretched on both sides, only their hands touching between them. "You are from the Free Marches, are you not? How much do you know about our little war?"

Cirilla offered a coy smile. "It doesn't matter where you're from, Your Grace. Everyone knows what's happening in the Empire."

Florianne frowned slightly, only noticeable in the narrowing of her eyes from beneath her mask. "I... I often forget about the world outside of the Imperial Court. It took great effort to arrange tonight's negotiations. Yet one party would use this occasion for blackest treason. The security of the Empire is at stake. Neither of us wishes to see it fall."

They turned to face each other, crossing their arms in front of them and then pushing them back out in a flourish before bowing briefly to each other. "Do we both want that, lady Florianne?" With outstretched arms, they crossed their legs and twisted their hips, touching the fingertips together of first their left and then their right hands.

When they repeated the move Florianne said, "I hope we are of one mind on this."

When their right hands touched the second time, Florianne came out of her position and Cirilla twirled her around in front of her so when the move ended, Florianne's back was to her. "In times like these, it's hard to tell friend from foe, is it not, Your Grace?"

They took two steps forward and Florianne spun to face Cirilla who took her left hand in hers, holding it aloft and rested her right hand on the Duchess' waist. They fell into a four-step, spinning at the same time. "I know you arrived here as a guest of my brother, Gaspard. And have been everywhere in the Palace... You are a curiosity to many, Inquisitor... and a matter of concern to some."

"Am I the curiosity or the concern to you, Your Grace?" Cirilla was treading carefully, asking a lot of questions, but giving very few answers as they twirled relentlessly, the poison still wearing off in her system making her mildly dizzy as the dance floor blurred past. She focused on Florianne as she responded.

"A little of both, actually. This evening is of great importance, Inquisitor. I wonder what role you will play in it. Do you even yet know who is friend and who is foe? Who in the court can be trusted?"

"An excellent question." Cirilla was beginning to get the feeling that Florianne was on the foe side of that list, but said nothing. "I might ask the same of you, Your Grace."

Florianne turned out of her embrace, beneath her left arm, their arms outstretching again before she crossed in front of Cirilla. Cirilla tucked her right arm beneath the Duchess' right arm that still held her left and the back of her hand rested on Florianne's hip. They spun again three times before she pulled in her arm and Florianne was brought before her again and they fell into the spinning four-step. "In the Winter Palace, everyone is alone," Florianne remarked. "It cannot have escaped your notice that certain parties are engaged in dangerous machinations tonight."

"I thought 'dangerous machinations' were the national sport in Orlais," Cirilla said still feigning the clueless Marcher. The dance floor had cleared and she and Florianne were alone in their dance. Cirilla took advantage of the spectacle they had become to slip her footing around Florianne's and trip the Duchess into a deep dip. The crowd applauded as Florianne looked up at her with surprise as she pulled her back to her feet.

"You have little time," Florianne warned as they finished off the dance as they had started it, arms outstretched on either side. But this time, Florianne's forearm rested atop Cirilla's instead of just their hands touching. "The attack will come soon. You must stop Gaspard before he strikes. In the Royal Wing Garden, you will find the captain of my brother's mercenaries. He knows all Gaspard's secrets. I'm sure you can persuade him to be forthcoming."

Cirilla and Florianne bowed to each other as the music stopped. "We'll see what the night has in store, won't we?" Cirilla left the dance floor before anyone had the chance to pull her into another dance. She needed to regain her equilibrium.

Josephine greeted her at the top of the stairs. "You'll be the talk of the court for months. We should take you dancing more often."

Cirilla smiled. "It's a relief to do something other than fight demons and horrors."

Josephine grinned mischievously. "You still face demons and horrors. These ones are simply better dressed."

They moved off to the side of the room and Cirilla plucked a water from a passing tray. "Were you _dancing_ with Duchess Florianne?" Leliana asked, approaching the table. Cullen was on her heels, looking pleased to be away from his crowd of admirers.

"More importantly," he said, crossing his arms. "What happened in the servants' quarters? I heard there was fighting."

"I hope you have good news," Josephine said with a sigh. "It appears the peace talks are crumbling."

"The Grand Duchess tried to convince me Gaspard is the traitor, but I'm not sure I buy it." She sipped the water greedily.

Leliana mused. "Florianne and her brother are thick as thieves, but she would give him up in an instant to save herself."

"Then..." Cullen's eyes widened. "The attack on the Empress _will_ happen tonight."

"Warning Celene is pointless," Josephine said in response to his flick of eyes toward the balcony where the talks were happening. "She needs these talks to succeed, and to flee would admit defeat."

"Then perhaps we should let her die," Leliana suggested casually.

Cirilla narrowed her eyes, but she asked carefully, "You have an idea, Leliana?" She knew how the Game worked, and sometimes people had to die. It was the way of things in Orlais.

"What Corpheus wants is chaos. Even with Celene alive, that could still happen. To foil his plan, the empire must remain strong. This evening, _someone _must emerge victorious."

"And it doesn't need to be Celene. She's right," Cullen gasped, watching with narrowed eyes as Cirilla finished her water and took another one.

"Do you realize what you're suggesting, Leliana?" Josie almost shrieked before remembering where she was and lowering her voice.

"Sometimes the best path is not the easiest one," Leliana said gently.

"You're asking me to decide what's best for Orlais," Cirilla nearly groaned.

"More than that," Cullen added. "Whoever controls the Imperial throne will affect all of Thedas."

"You cannot stop Corypheus without a decision. You must support someone, or all is lost," Leliana said gravely.

"Then we should support Celene. She _is_ the rightful ruler. Why would we say otherwise?" Josie remarked.

"Because she led Orlais to this point," Cullen grumbled. "I say Gaspard, provided his sister is wrong about him."

"I would suggest Briala," Leliana offered up her own opinion. "She could bring true peace, not only to the empire but also to its elves."

"This is, however, your decision, Inquisitor. Not ours," Josephine soothed.

Cirilla pinched the bridge of her nose through her mask and then immediately straightened. She was tired, but showing weakness here was the worst possible thing she could do. “I can't decide this. Not yet.”

“You must!” Leliana barked. “Even inaction is a decision, Inquisitor.”

“You could speak to Celene in the ballroom, but she won't act. Not without proof,” Josie sighed.

Cullen grunted. “If Gaspard is guilty, he'll admit nothing. If he's innocent, he knows nothing. We need the truth.”

“What did Duchess Florianne tell you?” Leliana asked cautiously.

“She said Gaspard's mercenary Captain is in the Royal Wing. That he knows about the assassination,” Cirilla revealed.

“Which could be a trap,” Cullen spat.

“Or a lead,” Josie countered. “Either way, you should search the private quarters in that wing for clues.”

“Then get me access, and in the meantime, get your soldiers into position,” Cirilla ordered, pushing away from the table and setting the second empty glass on the surface.

“At once,” Cullen said. His face shifted to worry as Leliana and Josephine peeled off from the group. “Is everything all right, Ciri? You look flushed.”

"It's fine, Cullen," she said with a forced smile. "I had a run in with some poison earlier in the evening. The antidote is still working to clear my system."

"Maker's breath," he said, his eyes widening.

She chuckled sweetly. "Don't you have soldiers to be mobilizing, Commander?"

"Right, of course. Be careful, Inquisitor," he said with one last glance over her person to be certain she wasn't going to topple over.

To give them time to do their jobs, she circled the ball room again, and them went back to the gallery. Past the gardens where she had done her disappearing act, she found a door that led down to a second floor where pipe smoke was thick on the air. She was shocked to find Varric down there, looking less than amused with the crowd he had gathered. It reminded her of Cullen's starry eyed gaggle of admirers. She approached him and pulled him to the side. "Having fun, Ribbons? I always enjoy canapes while surrounded by people who want to kill me."

"I should be asking you," she laughed lightly.

He grumbled, crossing his arms. "My brother used to throw galas like this in Kirkwall. I always tried to avoid them. I'm not much of a dancer these days."

"You have plenty of admirers," she pointed out.

He rolled his eyes. "I didn't know my books sold so well in Orlais. I'm going to have a chat with my publisher."

"We can chat later. Now, I think I can rescue you for a mission into the Royal Wing," she offered.

"Anything's better than here," he nodded, following her back up toward the rendezvous point.

Bull and Sera were already waiting outside the unlocked door, picked open discreetly by one of her people. When they crossed into the deserted wing and she started to strip her skirts and shoes, Bull said, "So... even Leliana thought this place was dangerous, and you wanted to just walk in here?" After a pause where she nodded with a grin he said, "This party is looking up."

Aside from having more expensive adornments in the decorations, the royal wing looked much the same as the servants' quarters. She bypassed a door to her left that had five empty spaces for halla statues. She had picked up a few in the servants' quarters, but not five. Ignoring the impossible door, she crept forward. As they neared a turn, the door directly ahead of them drew her attention as someone in the room beyond cried out in alarm. "Stay back!"

She burst into a sprint and slammed through the door. She saw an elven servant, cowering on the floor backing away as a Harlequin stood over her, swiping with her blades. Cirilla charged the Harlequin and kicked out with her bare foot, knocking the assassin out of the open window behind her. The woman fell to her death, and Cirilla turned to the servant, kneeling before her. "Thank you," the girl stuttered.

"Are you all right?" she asked in a calm tone.

"I'm... I don't think I'm hurt." The girl got to her feet, her expression stricken as she rubbed her shoulder. "No one's supposed to be here... Briala said... I shouldn't have trusted her." She sighed.

Cirilla frowned. "Briala told you to come to this wing of the palace?"

"Not personally," the servant explained. "The 'ambassador' can't be seen talking to the servants. We get coded messages at certain locations. But the order came from her. She's been watching the Grand Duke all night. No surprise she wanted someone to search his sister's room."

"So this room belongs to Grand Duchess Florianne?" Cirilla wondered.

"It used to. This had been her private room in Halamshiral since she was a child. But this part of the palace was damaged, and the royal family moved to the guest wing," she explained.

"What were you trying to find in Florianne's old room?" Any dirt on the Duchess would make Cirilla very happy.

The servant shrugged. "The message didn't say. I should have known it was a setup."

Cirilla smiled. "It takes great courage to come to the royal wing unarmed."

The servant snorted a laugh. "It's not 'courage' to blindly follow Briala's orders into a trap. I knew her. Before. When she was Celene's pet. Now she wants to play revolution. But I remember. She was sleeping with the Empress who purged our alienage." Her confession was bitter.

"Would you be willing to testify to that, if I asked?" Cirilla asked carefully.

"Absolutely," she agreed immediately. "If... If the Inquisition will protect me, I'll tell you everything I know about our 'ambassador'."

"Knew it!" Sera announced loudly. "I did. And I bet the hate made it feel real good."

"Go to the ballroom," Cirilla advised. "Find Commander Cullen. He'll keep you safe."

"Thank you. Maker protect you, Inquisitor."

The girl left and Cirilla searched around the room and found nothing of worth accept a halla statue. "Still not enough," she mumbled to herself.

"You need more?" Sera asked.

Then she dug in her pockets and produced nearly ten of the little sculptures. "How in Andraste's name did you get all of those?" Cirilla chuckled.

"Friends, Inquisitor."

Cirilla took the few more she needed and headed for the door she had passed. As the lock clicked open after she had placed the statues, a voice called out. "Hello? Is someone there?" Cirilla followed the voice and her brow quirked as she laid eyes on a strange sight. There was a lush bed upon a dais near a roaring fire. The head board was quilted silk, trimmed in gold and topped with a golden shield. The footboard was no less impressive, made completely of gold. Atop the bed, shackled by both wrists and ankles, spread eagle and naked as a newborn laid a man in a soldier's helm. He wriggled and fought his bindings to no avail.

"What... happened?" She asked, trying to remain passive.

"It's not what it looks like!" he cried. "Honestly, I would have preferred if it were what it looks like. The Empress led me to believe I would be... rewarded for betraying the Grand Duke. This... was not what I hoped for."

Cirilla crossed her arms. "I can imagine what you thought your reward would be."

"Please, I beg you, don't tell Gaspard!" the man wriggled more, rattling the shackles. "The Empress beguiled me! Into giving her information about... plans for troop movements in the palace tonight. She knows everything! Everything! The Duke's surprise attack has been countered before it ever began. She's turned it into a trap.The moment he strikes, she'll have him arrested for treason."

Sera laughed maniacally. "She'll be all prim, but here's you with your bits out." She snorted.

Bull shook his own head in amusement. "Classic honeypot."

Swallowing her own amusement, Cirilla knelt by the bed and began to undo his bindings."I'll protect you form Gaspard if you're willing to testify about Celene's trap."

"I'll do anything! Anything!" he cried as she slipped the first binding loose.

Once he was free, he snatched up clothes and awkwardly excused himself. "Do they even like being so... like they are? Ugh!" Sera remarked.

Finding not much else of value in that hall, they found their way into the locked off section that was supposedly under going repairs. Again, shouts from behind a door drew them into one of the gardens. As Bull pushed open the door, Cirilla felt the mark react to something nearby, and she discreetly tucked it behind her back, her fist closed. The garden was surrounded by archers both on the lower level and on the balcony above. "Inquisitor! What a pleasure! I wasn't certain you'd attend. You're such a challege to read. I had no idea if you'd taken my bait," Florianne said from above where she stood grinning down at them wickedly.

"I fear I'm a bit busy at the moment, if you were looking for a dance partner," Cirilla returned in a snarky tone.

"Yes, I see that. Such a pity you did not save one final dance for me," Florianne's pout was disingenuous. "It was kind of you to walk into my trap so willingly. I was so tired of your meddling." While she rambled, Cirilla glanced around as if she were counting her foes, but what she was really looking at was a slit of green, barely visible in the air above them. "Corypheus insisted that the Empress die tonight, and I would hate to disappoint him."

Cirilla snapped her eyes from the inactive rift and grinned. "At this point, I'd think disappointment was an old friend."

"You poor, deluded thing," Florianne mocked. "You don't know half of what Samson and I have planned. And now, I suppose you never will. In their darkest dreams, no one imagines I would assassinate Celene myself. All I need is to keep you out of the ballroom long enough to strike. A pity you'll miss the rest of the ball, Inquisitor.They'll be talking of it for years." Florianne started to walk away. "Kill her. Bring the marked hand as proof. It will make a fine gift for the master."

At least a dozen arrows were loosed in her direction and Bull stepped between them and her, shoving her aside so she needed to drop and roll unless she wanted to start the fight on her arse. She heard him grunt as more than one of the arrows made contact. She lifted the mark high and called open the rift to handle the archers with the demons that sprang forth. As the rift snapped open, she darted to Bull's side as he breathed heavily and ripped four arrows from his abdomen and thighs. Before she could ask, he growled low in his throat. "Out of the way. Reaver..." He gritted his teeth and raised his axe to charge at the threats all around, using his injuries to his advantage, powering his skills. She kept to the opposite side of the field, slashing her own trail of bodies around the perimeter, mindful of her top. She doubted she would still need it, but she might.

When the fighting was done, she raced to pull the rift closed and then to Bull's side where he was leaning heavily on his ax. "Bull..." she said gently, a hand on his chest.

He added his own hand on top of hers and offered a grimacing smile. "Nothing a little elfroot won't fix."

"You big idiot," she scolded softly, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Now you sound like Krem," he said with a chuckle as Varric approached them and handed over a vial filled with red elfroot potion. Before he downed it, he nodded behind her and she turned to see Sera untying a man that had been lashed to a pole.

"Andraste's tits! What was all that?" the man asked, his voice high and his eyes wide as she rubbed at his wrists after getting off the ground. "Were those demons? There aren't any more blasted demons coming, right?"

"Good eye!" Cirilla said mockingly. "Those were definitely demons."

"Maker bless me! Demons? How could there be demons in the fucking Winter Palace?" He took a breath. "I knew Gaspard was a bastard, but I didn't think he'd feed me to fucking horrors over a damned bill."

The man was agitated and Cirilla sighed. "Duke Gaspard lured you out here?"

The man's eyes flicked between her and her companions before he shrugged. "Well, his sister, but it had to come from him, didn't it? All that garbage she was spewing doesn't mean anything. Gaspard had to be the mastermind."

"Your accent sounds Ferelden," Cirilla pointed out, wondering what a Ferelden was doing there. It wasn't unheard of for foreigners to join the Orlesian army. Even Blackwall was originally a Marcher, but it seemed strange. "I thought you were one of Gaspard's mercenaries."

"Born and raised in Denerim," the man nodded. "Seems like I should have stayed there. The Duke wanted to move on the Palace tonight. But he didn't have enough fancy chevaliers. So he hired me and my men. He had to offer us triple our usual pay to come to Orlais. Stinking poncy cheesemongers," he grumbled.

"Want a new job?" Cirilla offered. "One that pays better? The Inquisition can always use a good mercenary company." If these Fereldens were good enough for Gaspard, they were more than good for the Inquisition.

"You hiring? I'm game. Anything's better than this bullshit," he agreed. "You want me to talk to the Empress, or the court, or sing a blasted song in the Chantry, I'll do it."

Once he had wandered off, Cirilla stepped back over to Bull who was looking much better. She prodded his chest with a finger. "Don't scare me like that."

"Sure thing, Boss," he said with a lopsided grin.

She sighed. "We need to get back to the ballroom."

Off the garden, they passed through a small chapel, followed by a series of living space for the royal family. The entire path was cluttered with more assassins and Tevinters. Cirilla was panicking while they fought through the mess. Florianne could have been assassinating Celene already.

When they finally reached where her skirts and shoes were, she hastily dressed and rushed to the ballroom. Cullen greeted her almost immediately. "Thank the Maker you're back! The Empress will begin her speech soon. What should we do?"

Cirilla looked around him and spotted the Herald preparing to announce Celene as Florianne hovered on the sidelines. "The Grand Duchess is the assassin. Don't let her anywhere near the Empress."

"The Duchess?" His eyes widened. "At once, Inquisitor."

He hurried off, signaling the guard around the room.The Herald began to speak. "Let all gathered attend! Her Imperial Majesty will now address the court!"

Celene appeared and the crowd thickened, making Cirilla's job of getting to her in time that much harder. "Lords and Ladies. As a nation we mourn our sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, friends and lovers claimed by war. The sky is torn open, our Divine is dead, and many fear the end of all things comes upon us. Orlais must stand as a bastion, a bulwark behind which all Thedas may take shelter. So has it stood for a thousand years! So shall it ever stand." The tension was rising in the room as Cirilla pushed her way through the crowd and Celene rallied her people. "This would not have been possible without the efforts of many. Dear cousin, please step forward."

She was not close enough, so Cirilla shouted as loudly as she could. "Grand Duchess, stand down!"

The crowd gasped and parted, allowing Cirilla to put on a burst of speed. Inquisition soldiers reached the dais first, moving Celene out of the way and surrounding Florianne. The Duchess was not going to go down without a fight. A knife appeared in her hand, and she stabbed backwards into the gut of the soldier attempting to subdue her. Then she slashed at the man in front of her, slicing his chest to ribbons before spinning to re-engage the one she had already stabbed who was bravely still trying to get hold of her. He didn't last long. "Now!" Florianne shouted, and from the shadows all around the ballroom, Harlequin slipped into sight and massacred the Inquisition soldiers that were caught off guard. "For Corypheus, kill them all!"

Florianne was waylaid by a few more unlucky soldiers before bolting for the balcony behind her. Cirilla gave chase, ripping away the hindering skirts and tossing them to the ground and easily stepping out of her shoes. "Cullen! Protect the people!" she cried before vaulting over the balcony rail to drop after the Duchess.

The rest of her party was on her heels. Florianne dropped a smoke bomb when she landed and pulled a similar stunt to Cirilla, rolling as she landed and slipping from the smoke with her dress discarded and a bow in hand. Cirilla pulled her daggers from her thigh sheathes and stood on guard in front of Florianne who had knocked and arrow and was aiming for Cirilla. The jump had landed them in the entry gardens at the top of the rounded staircases. Zevran slipped into sight nearby, a pair of deadly looking daggers in his hands. She assumed if he had returned that Anselmo had been dealt with. "Beaten at every turn," Florianne said angrily. "You stole the moment of my triumph, just as you stole the demon army from Erimond. And now you've chased a defenseless woman into the garden. Are you proud of yourself?"

Cirilla snorted and glanced from Florianne's knocked arrow to the skin tight black and red outfit she now wore. "You were about to murder the Empress. We both know you're not defenseless."

Florianne tipped her head in ascent. "True. You never were one to fall for my helpless-damsel act." She loosed the arrow and Cirilla sidestepped out of the way, watching the arrow speed past her face and with another smoke bomb, Florianne flipped up onto the fountain behind her. "The night is still young. All I need to recover... is to kill you, Inquisitor." The gates slammed closed behind them, locking them in the gardens. "So good of you to attend my soiree."

Florianne flipped from the fountain and Cirilla darted down the stairs to the ground where she waited. She dodged two hastily released arrows and dove at Florianne with a shout. Florianne had not expected her to jump in immediately and the act threw her off balance. She dropped a smoke bomb again and backed out of the fight as more of her Venatori friends entered the gardens to join the fight. Cirilla cast her gaze around, hunting for Florianne. She could not escape. Her friends were occupied by the Venatori, and when she finally spotted Florianne, she charged her again, flinging a few throwing knives as she ran. One of them clipped Florianne in her right bicep, guaranteeing her bow draw would be weakened. Florianne was ready for the charge this time and lifted her bow to block the slash of Cirilla's weapons. The daggers bit deep scars into the wood of the bow, weakening her defenses even further. Florianne seemed to understand what Cirilla was doing and she growled angrily, tossing the bow aside. Drawing her own daggers, Florianne met Cirilla one on one. She was skilled, but clearly not a dual wielder. Cirilla managed to wrest the weapon from Florianne's right hand by catching the blade with hers and twisting the injured arm. Florianne flipped the remaining dagger to her right hand and slashed at Cirilla. Still recovering from the poison, Cirilla's actions were slowed just enough that the swipe drew blood and took one of her daggers from her. She charged with renewed vigor at the insult, feinting high and then slicing low, cutting open Florianne's ribs. Florianne looked shocked as she lowered her arms and gripped the open wound with a grunt. Cirilla was not expecting a swift retaliation and the unforeseen attack left her without a weapon. Florianne swung downwards with her blade, siming for Cirilla's face, Cirilla raised her arms and blocked the attack by crossing her forearms above her head and positioning it so she caught Florianne's wrist with the block instead of the blade. The jarring impact knocked Florianne's final weapon from her hand as well. Cirilla grabbed hold of Florianne's wrist before she could pull it away and wrenched her arm down and around, spinning her so she faced away from her. Then she kicked her feet out from under her, taking her to her knees. Florianne retaliated by spinning and elbowing Cirilla in the gut. She doubled over and Florianne spun on a knee and grabbed for her neck. Cirilla managed to back away from the grasping hands and slapped Florianne's arms down again. She lunged at the woman and barreled into her. They fell to the ground, rolling over each other, both trying to force the other onto her back. Florianne came up on top, pinning Cirilla to the ground. Her hands wrapped around Cirilla's neck and she felt the air to her lungs being cut off. She tried to kick Florianne off her, but she was pinned by all of her weight. Blackness started to swim on the edges of her vision and she reached up with her hands to try and grapple Florianne off of her. Then as she watched her arms flailing, she saw the flash of silver around her wrists. She positioned her wrists as best she could while her chest tightened and her heart raced to compensate for the lack of oxygen to her brain. Then she jutted her wrists backwards, tugging the delicate chains of the bracelets. The spikes in the bracelets shucked free and jammed themselves into Florianne's eyes. She shrieked and her hands immediately left Cirilla's neck as she clawed at her face. Cirilla gasped in a lungful of air, her chest heaving as she bucked the screaming woman from atop her. She coughed, trying to replenish the air in her lungs and blinked the blackness away. When she could breathe, she rolled to her knees and swung her arm with the blade still free, slicing into Florianne's throat and silencing the ragged screams still echoing from her throat as her hands dug into her bleeding eyes sockets.

As Florianne died, Cirilla calmly put the blades away and fell to her hands and knees, regaining her equilibrium and deciding how much of the blood on her clothes was hers and how much was Florianne's. Not long after, familiar hands wrapped around her arms and lifted her to her feet. "Are you all right, Kadan?" Bull asked as she sunk against him.

She nodded. "We need to get back inside to check on the Empress."

She pushed away from the warmth of his chest, wishing she didn't have to. He released her, almost grudgingly. She climbed the rounded stairs and Varric got the gates open for them to head back into the Palace. Shocked stares and gaping mouths followed her through the vestibule and into the ballroom where she found Celene, Briala and Gaspard arguing on one of the side balconies while the Inquisition soldiers remaining secured the area.

"Your sister attempted regicide in front of the entire Court, Gaspard!" Briala accused shrilly.

"You're the spymaster," he shrugged. "If anyone knew this atrocity was coming, it was you."

"You don't deny your involvement," Briala said smugly.

"I do deny it!" Gaspard swiped his hand downwards. "I knew nothing of Florianne's plans! But you... you knew it all and did nothing!"

"I don't know which is better... That you think I'm all seeing, or that you're trying so hard to play innocent and failing." Briala crossed her arms.

"Enough!" Celene demanded. "We will not bicker while Tevinter plots against our nation! For the safety of the Empire, I will have answers."

Cirilla spoke up in the silence that followed. "Every one of you is implicated. You all conspired to allow this to happen."

"That's a bold claim, Inquisitor. Are you prepared to defend it?" Celene asked with narrowed eyes.

"You allowed the Grand Duke to sneak soldiers in, hoping he'd make a politically foolish move," Cirilla began.

"That's duplicitous even for you, Celene," Gaspard reacted in shock.

"You took the bait," Cirilla continued to accuse, looking now at Gaspard. "I met your mercenary captain, Your Grace. He says you were ready to attack tonight."

"Clever move, if you were trying to get hanged for treason," Briala sniggered.

"And Briala was playing both of you. She murdered your ambassadors and sent you each forged letters," Cirilla pointed out.

"Even if I did, you can't touch me," Briala snapped.

"No one will defend you once it's revealed that you and Celene were lovers when she burned Halamshiral's alienage."

"You made your point," Celene interrupted. "What do you want?"

Cirilla looked between them and sighed. "You are three of the best minds in the empire. You could do so much for Orlais and your people if you stopped fighting."

"It is remarkably... optimistic to believe that the three of us could ever forget our differences, Inquisitor," Celene remarked.

They left the balcony with a reluctant alliance, but one that Cirilla held over their heads. She was confident it would keep. Orlais was built on reputation and she held the proof to destroy them all. After a rousing speech, the bodies were cleaned up, and Cirilla found a change of clothes before retiring to the refreshing night air. Her throat was aching and raw and her body felt run down. The Imperial Court had not disappointed, at least. It had been filled with mayhem and intrigue and death. Almost more than Cirilla could stomach. As she leaned on the rail of the balcony, rustling approached her from behind. Morrigan's smooth voice spoke before she had to turn her head and irritate her throat. "The Orlesian nobility make drunken toasts to your victory, and yet you are not present to hear them? Do you tire so quickly of their congratulations, Inquisitor? 'Tis most fickle, after all your efforts on their behalf."

"I would have stayed," Cirilla croaked. "But the punch ran dry. Scandalous."

Morrigan laughed lightly and then said, "Indeed? Let us see if you take this piece of news as poorly. By Imperial decree, I have been named liaison to the Inquisition. Celene wishes to offer you any and all aid... including mine. Congratulations."

"Welcome to the Inquisition, Morrigan," Cirilla said with a strained smile.

"A most gracious response," Morrigan said, returning the smile. "I shall meet you at Skyhold."

As Morrigan disappeared back into the Palace, another voice interrupted her. "Ah, the beautiful Morrigan is as lovely as ever, I see." Zevran chuckled as he leaned his hip on her rail and grinned at her. "May I?" He indicated the bruising on her neck and she nodded, straightening so he could look it over, prodding gently. He produced some elfroot from his pouches like he had the antidote. "I came prepared for any attempt on your life." He plunked the bottle into her palm and indicated she drink it. "Slowly, my dear Inquisitor, or the swelling may be too much to allow it to work." She sipped at the potion, the earthy taste bitter on her tongue. "Before you ask, I have dealt with your little problem and it won't trouble you in the future. Once Leliana confirms my work and contacts the guild, I will be on my way. Ah, ah, ah, do not weep over my absence. I am certain you will need my services again some day. I am but a raven away. Do keep in touch. Keeping you breathing has been the most fun I've had in years."

He bowed and left her to her potion. She finished it slowly, then set the bottle on the rail beside her. As she stood leaning on the rail, she closed her eyes and silently mourned Anselmo. She had cared for him once. It was a shame that things had ended the way they had. She heard Bull approaching, his heavy shuffling gait easy to pick out. "They ran out of that cheese dip. Asked for more, and they gave me this _look_, the assholes," he said, moving to lean beside her. "How ya doing?"

She glanced at him, still wearing his now tattered uniform and she smiled weakly. "It's been a long day," she confessed, the elfroot allowing the statement to not come out sounding like a frog was living in her throat.

"Least we got to the end of it alive," he pointed out, giving her the bright side. "That's more than some can say. Cullen's giving orders now. We're just about good here." Then he turned so he could lift one arm and indicate the Palace. "Come on. The music's finally got enough of a beat to dance to." Then he backed away from the rail and held out his arm properly, awkwardly bowing at the waist.

She smiled and placed her hand on his forearm. "I'd love to."

He grinned. "Good. They're out of food." He led her toward the dance floor, and she reveled in the press of his hand on the small of her back. He didn't force her to the main dance floor, but kept them up near the balcony they had just left, pulling her against him. She shuffled her feet along side him and realized that in spite of her weary body, this was the best dance she had participated in all night.


	13. Three Little Empresses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More personal quests in the aftermath of the Winter Palace.

She had barely had a chance to bathe before the usual chaos of Skyhold erupted. She left her quarters, her hair still damp, and as she made her way through the main hall, heading for the sunshine outside, she saw Varric standing with another dwarf, looking both frightened and annoyed. His voice carried across the early morning quiet of the hall. "I appreciate the warning, but you shouldn't have come yourself. What if the guild found out? Or whatshisname?"

"Are you worrying for me or for yourself?" the woman asked with mild whimsy in her tone. She was wearing a typical set of dwarven made rogue gear carelessly un-dyed with the hood pulled up around her head to hide her identity. She was standing discreetly apart from Varric, but from the look on his face and the tension swirling around, they knew each other well.

"A little of column A, a little of column B. I am the expendable one, after all," he said, the usual smirk that would come with a comment like that not showing up on his face.

Cirilla was now curious and she slowed her gait near the doors outside. "Aww. Don't worry. I'll protect you. We'll just have to..." the woman cocked her head as she noticed Cirilla out of the corner of her eye. Varric looked sullen as the woman addressed her. "Well, this is a surprise. You're the Inquisitor, right? Bianca Davri, at your service."

Cirilla raised a brow. "Your name is Bianca?" Was this the woman that Varric had named his crossbow after?

She shrugged. "It's a common name. Half the girls in the Merchant's Guild are named Bianca. The other half are named 'Helga'. I lucked out."

"I take it you're a friend of Varric's" Cirilla concluded as she looked between the two and realized they both had a slight suspicious shift to their eyes.

"Who _isn't_ a friend of Varric's? You have met him before, right?" she said with a light chuckle.

Cirilla crossed her arms and glanced between them one more time. "Why do you both look like cats that got into the cream?"

Varric spoke up. "She's taking a huge risk coming here herself. Maybe for both of us."

"Your such a worrier," Bianca scoffed. "There's a giant hole in the sky. I think the Merchant's Guild has bigger things to think about."

Varric sighed. "Bianca's got a lead on where Corypheus got his red lyrium."

Cirilla was suddenly very invested as Bianca continued for him. "The site of Bartrand's Folly, the thaig Varric found, has been leaked. There's a Deep Roads entrance crawling with strange humans carting out red lyrium by the handful."

"Who could have given away the thaig's location?" Cirilla asked, her eyes widening.

"There were a few people who knew," Varric explained. "Hirelings from the expedition. A couple of close friends."

Bianca shook her head. "How they found out isn't important. What matters is we know where they are now."

"If it's such a secret, how did you know about it, Bianca?" Cirilla asked with a frown.

Varric shuffled his feet and lowered his eyes. "I told her," he mumbled. With another sigh he said, "Right after the expedition, I wrote and told Bianca what we found. I had artifacts that needed buyers, and she had more contacts that would pay for them. Plus, I owed her."

Cirilla glanced between them once more. "How do we know they're not using multiple entrances to get to the thaig?"

Bianca shook her head. "Navigating the Deep Roads isn't like the surface. There are no accurate maps of the whole system, and there are cave-ins, Darkspawn, lava floods... If you find a route that gets where you're going, you don't deviate. Trying to find another way could be deadly."

"So you can get there from Ferelden? It's a long way to the Free Marches," Cirilla pointed out.

"The Deep Roads are all connected. Or they used to be. Collapses and such. Some of them on purpose," Varric explained.

"They really are roads. They spanned the dwarven empire. Went to every corner of the continent, maybe further," Bianca added. "In theory, you can get to any thaig using the Deep Roads, but in practice... Well, there's a reason nobody uses them anymore."

Cirilla knew this was as important as tracking down Samson's base of operations. She offered Varric an encouraging smile and said, "We need to deal with this. As long as he has this source, Corypheus is that much more powerful."

"I couldn't agree more," Varric nodded.

"I'll keep an eye on their operation. If you're interested in shutting it down, you've got my help," Bianca offered. Then she turned to Varric. "Try not to leave me waiting too long, Varric. I've got my own work to do, you know."

She left the main hall and Varric turned to Cirilla to sigh heavily. "Right. That's not going to be trouble at all. Let me know when you want to head to the entrance." He waved his hand dismissively and Cirilla patted his shoulder lightly before continuing out to the courtyard. She was planning on paying Cullen a visit, but taking the long way around to check in on Cole and deliver his amulet that had arrived while they had been gone. As she headed down the main stairs, she noted Josephine standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking as annoyed as Varric had at seeing Bianca. A Chantry mother was harassing her quite thoroughly. "The matter is urgent, Lady Josephine."

"I am well aware of that, Revered Mother."

"We will need them to return to Val Royeaux as soon as possible. There are ceremonies... ordinations! Maker's mercy!" the Mother rubbed her fingers across her forehead in exasperation.

"That's quite impossible at the moment. However, I will see to this matter as soon as possible," Josephine said more calmly than her expression read.

Cirilla paused and the Mother jumped on the opportunity. "My lady Inquisitor! Please, may I have a word with you?"

"How may I assist you, Revered Mother?" she asked politely, willing to help Josephine in any way possible.

"With the political turmoil put to rest, our minds turn to a single question... the next Divine. We cannot answer it without the Left and Right Hands of Divine Justinia V," the Mother explained.

Josephine sneered. "I have already told you, Revered Mother... Lady Leliana and Seeker Cassandra cannot be spared from their duties."

"But surely with the support of the empire, the Inquistion will not be harmed by the loss of just two souls?"

Cirilla held up a palm and shook her head. "Why do you need Leliana and Cassandra?"

"They were Her Holiness' most trusted advisers. They represent her legacy, her hopes for peace in Thedas. They could rally the Grand Clerics to follow as no candidate from the clergy has been able to."

Cirilla's eyes widened and she glanced at Josephine who nodded discreetly. "Leliana and Cassandra... are candidates to become the Divine? How is that possible?"

"Not yet," the Mother corrected. "But they could be. We need them to be. There is precedent... other times when clerics remained deadlocked, a successor was chosen from outside the clergy. Lady Leliana and Seeker Cassandra were Justinia's most trusted friends and advisers. Our late Divine is still held in high esteem. To honor her, the Grand Clerics might support one of them as successor."

Sighing, Cirilla pinched the bridge of her nose. "These aren't just any two people. They're key members of the Inquisition."

"For the sake of Thedas, we must ask you to make this sacrifice..." the Mother began.

"This will have to be settled later," Josephine interrupted. "The Inquisitor has only just returned and has important business to attend to. You must excuse us, Revered Mother." With a final glance at Cirilla, the Revered Mother tipped her head and left them, looking less than satisfied. Josephine looked at Cirilla and smiled. "Don't let them detract from your victory at Halamshiral. We've beaten his Wardens and stopped his intrigues. Soon, Corypheus will have no place to hide. Cullen is hoping to press our advantage. We'll plan our next attack when you're ready." Still smiling, she left the way Cirilla had come. Cirilla made her way toward Herald's Rest, tossing Bull a smile across the training ring which he returned with a devious smirk that made her insides clench in anticipation. They had yet to find time for each other since before leaving for the Winter Palace.

She rolled her shoulders and continued into the tavern. As she made her way up to the rafters where Cole seemed to like it, she noticed that Sera's door was closed. That was new. Sera's door was never closed, even when she was away. She left it open for people to come and go, taking back some of the things she had 'procured' from around Skyhold. Cirilla deviated from her course, stepping past the bottom of the stairs and circling the second floorto Sera's door. A loud thunking sound was coming from something hitting the door. With each thunk, Sera was saying a name. "One for the empress. For Gaspard. Briala. The duchess. And Coryphefuss," The source of the thunking became evident when an arrowhead pierced the wood of the door below eye level. "Right in the dangle-bag!"

Cirilla snickered, listening for more arrows. When no more sounds came, she cautiously pushed the door open. "Well, remind me to stay on your good side."

Sera tossed her bow aside and sat on her loud couch. "Don't worry, you're sparkling compared to that lot." She sighed. "A cook here, a footman there. What's it matter, right, so long as there's a butt for the throne?" She shrugged, a frown still on her face. "A pretty one, sure. But how many lives are worth one empress' arse? Ugh, that place. Should have just thrown in some bees and slammed the doors."

"I don't know," Cirilla said, crossing her arms and grinning. Sera clearly would never understand the Game, but Cirilla could see where she was coming from. "You want to stop a party, I think you go earwigs."

Sera attempted to laugh and make a disgusted sound at the same time. "Eww, I hate those things with their little pinchy butts! Josephine should add that to her paper threats. You know the real lesson from all this? Never sleep with an empress. That and Briala being an idiot. The whole thing would've gone different if that little piss-up wasn't in the middle."

Cirilla tended to agree. "That was a mistake on their part. It made everything worse."

Sera shook her head. "Wrong way around, Ciri. It started worse. Lots of people died before there was a hole in the sky. That's who you're saving. If you get a chance, maybe remind them not to be idiots."

Cirilla smirked again. "I'll put that in the next correspondence to the empress."

Sera shooed her, leaving the now pin-cushioned door open again. Cirilla climbed the stairs as was her original intention, and spotted Cole in his usual spot. She approached him and took the amulet from her pocket. "I found the amulet that Solas told us about. Would you like to try it on?"

Cole took the amulet from her and hesitantly studied it. "Yes! But not here. I like it here. We need someplace that can go away if it becomes sharp." She smiled and followed him to Solas. His pace was brisk, almost excited and she hoped this was not a disappointment. "What do I do with it?" he asked as they stepped into the solarium, drawing Solas' attention from what he had been doing."

Solas glanced at them and saw the amulet in Cole's outstretched hand. "You found one of the amulets. Excellent. May I?" He approached and Cole handed off the amulet. He studied it briefly, tipping his head to be certain it was what he was looking for. "It is simple enough. You put it on, I charge it with magic, and you should be protected."

There was a lot of 'if' hidden in Solas' words, and Cirilla grunted. "We know it's not just going to work, right? It never just _works_."

"Have faith, Inquisitor," Solas said meaningfully. Her faith was in short supply any more. She held more in herself and those she surrounded herself with than she did in the laws of magic, or anything religious, since the rules kept seeming to change.

Cole slipped the amulet on over his floppy hat and Solas reached his arm out toward the gem shimmering at his chest. Immediately, there was a sweep of magic as Solas concentrated, but then it burst outwards, knocking Cole back a few steps and making him cry out. Cirilla touched a steadying hand to his shoulder as Varric came into the room, drawn by the sound. "What was that?" His eyes fell on the scene and Solas' frown and he rolled his eyes. "Oh, for... What are you doing to the kid?"

Cole turned to him, his expression stricken. "Stopping blood mages from binding me like the demons at Adamant. But it didn't work."

"Something is interfering with the enchantment," Solas said, returning to his usual haughty stance, hands clasped behind his back.

"Something like Cole not being a demon?" Varric suggested, stirring Cirilla's own doubts.

"Solas, is it possible that the amulet doesn't work on Cole because he's too... human?"

Solas sneered slightly, a single brow rising as if he were surrounded by naive idiots. "Regardless of Cole's special circumstances, he remains a spirit."

"Yes," Varric agreed sarcastically. "A spirit who is strangely like a person!"

Cirilla noted his use of 'who' as opposed to 'that' in reference to Cole. She felt like she would have made the same distinction and suddenly, she needed Cole to be as Varric saw him. She was uncertain if the feelings were all together her own. Cole raised his voice above them all and paced away in agitation, Solas on his heels. "I don't matter. Just lock away the parts of me that someone else could knot together to make me follow." She could see the tension in his shoulders as he hung his head, breathing rapidly.

Solas calmly addressed him. "Focus on the amulet. Tell me what you feel."

His head twitched and he began to fiddle with his frayed sleeve. "Warm, soft blanket covering, but it catches, tears, I'm the wrong shape, there's something..." he turned and pointed, beyond Skyhold to the east. "There. That way."

"It appears we have something to find," Cirilla said. Then she frowned at Solas. Faith indeed. "I told you it never just works."

Varric turned to Cole. "All right, kid. Get Cullen and work with him on the map to figure out where you're sensing something wrong."

"Will you some with me? All of you?" Cole asked desperately.

"Sure," Varric agreed for them all. Cirilla had no objection. Cole turned and left from the doorway that led toward Cullen's tower. Varric turned a mildly annoyed look on Solas. "All right. I get it. You like spirits. But he came into this world to be a person. Let him be one."

Cirilla nodded. "If I see a way to protect Cole without taking away... whatever he is, I'll use it. But Cole clearly needs our help."

Varric held up his palms. "I'm not saying we do nothing. But that ritual of theirs only works on demons, right?"

Solas scoffed. "This is not some fanciful story, child of the Stone. We cannot change our nature by wishing."

"You don't think?" Varric asked with a grin.

From pursed lips, Solas said, "However we deal with the problem, our next step is to track down whatever is interfering with the enchantment."

Cirilla agreed and then figured Cullen was busy with Cole, so she decided to check on some of the others. Varric stopped her first. "Hey, Ciri. With Bianca here and all, I forgot to give you something."

"Oh, you got me a gift? I love gifts," she said with a teasing chuckle.

"Well, technically, you got the Seeker a gift. I finished the book. You ready to go give it to her?" he asked, picking up a thin book with an illustrated cover.

She nodded. "You had me at book."

She allowed him to carry the book, tucked behind his back as she led them down to where Cassandra was usually to be found. Sure enough, she was sitting on her stool, watching the soldiers run drills in the practice ring. When she looked over and saw Varric on Cirilla's heel, she stood with a grunt and narrowed her eyes at him. "What have you done now?"

"I get it, Seeker. You're still sore after our spat," Varric teased.

Cassandra's face went red. "I am not a child, Varric. Do not suggest I'm without reason."

He held the book out. "A peace offering. The next chapter of _Swords and Shields_. I hear you're a fan."

Cassandra turned her angered stare to Cirilla. "This is your doing."

Cirilla crossed her arms and smiled deviously. "Oh, yes. Do you really think I'd miss this?"

"Well," Varric shrugged and dropped his arm. "If you're not interested, you're not interested. Still needs editing, anyhow." he turned and began to walk away.

Cassandra's eyes bugged out. "Wait!" Both her hands lifted to stop him.

Cirilla could hear the smirk of triumph in his voice as he lifted the book up to rest on his shoulder, still facing away from them. "You're probably wondering what happens to the Knight-captain after the last chapter."

Cassandra lifted her fingers to her lips and gasped. "Nothing should happen to her. She was falsely accused!"

"Well, it turns out the guardsman..." Before he could finish, Cassandra bolted after him and snatched the book from his hands.

"Don't _tell_ me!"

Varric finally turned slowly to face them both with that grin still on his face. "This is the part where you thank the Inquisitor. I don't normally give sneak peeks, after all."

Cassandra was hunched over the book, her fingers tracing the lettering on the cover. Then she looked up, smiling. "I... thank you," she said to Cirilla.

"This was everything I'd hoped," Cirilla chuckled.

"I know how you feel," Varric agreed.

"I wonder if I have time to read the first part?" Cassandra gasped, moving away to sit back in her chair.

Varric started to head back toward the main hall. "Don't forget to tell all your friends! If you have any," he mumbled the last part. Then he sighed contentedly. "Completely worth it."

Cirilla made her way up to see Leliana first, bypassing the library to save Dorian for last. The spymaster was sitting at her table that she mainly worked from and looking mildly saddened. When Cirilla approached her, she looked up. There was a letter before her, but she placed a hand over it. "Inquisitor, I... I have been thinking. You remember everything now, yes? The explosion at Haven. The Fade. Escaping the Breach. In your report, you said Justinia was with you. But only you emerged in the end. Why? Why were you the only survivor?"

Cirilla's gut clenched as the images from the Fade returned to her thoughts. "Demons tore her from me. I couldn't stop them."

"So you had no time to think. Only to act," Leliana surmised, her expression still saddened. "Her message to me. 'I failed you, too'. I'm not sure I understand what that means. Did she say anything else? Anything at all? Please, if you remember..."

Cirilla shook her head. "I'm sorry, Leliana. That was it."

Leliana sighed. "There are no answers in the Fade. Only illusions. A warped mirror. Justinia has _never_ failed me. I was her Left Hand. Now she is dead. _I_ failed her." She sighed and lifted her hand from the paper on the table before her and explained at Cirilla's questioning look. "A message from Divine Justinia."

"That's a shock," Cirilla said, moving to sit across from Leliana. "You're all right reading it?"

"Thank you for the concern, Ciri, but I am." Pausing once more, she continued. "This message was written months, perhaps even years ago... to be delivered to me if she died. I've heard of such contingency plans. A sudden death often leaves loose ends. I'm to go to Valence, a small village on the Waking Sea. There is something hidden there."

"Do you know what you're looking for?" Cirilla wondered gently. Valence was a long way.

"The Divine was a powerful woman who used her position to obtain all sorts of things," Leliana explained. "Whatever she hid in Valence would very likely benefit the Inquisition and must be kept from falling into the wrong hands. If I'm lucky, she will have instructions for me."

Cirilla reached out her hand and laid it on Leliana's. "I'll help in whatever way I can."

"Wonderful," Leliana said. "I was hoping you would agree to come with me to Valence... One more thing. If what is hidden in Valence is as valuable as I think, we're not going to be the only ones looking for it. I shall meet you at the Chantry in Valence. Try not to delay."

Cirilla left the rookery and skipped over Dorian again to finally see about visiting with Cullen. If Leliana was leaving, he would need to pick up her duties briefly. She made it halfway to Cullen's tower when Cole appeared before her and looked at her with wide eyes. "He's hurting, helpless, hungry. The song calls to him... louder when he can't sleep. He misses the scent of earth and smoke, but he needs the voice of a friend."

"Do you mean Cullen?" Cirilla asked with a frown.

Cole nodded. "I watched before he left. Then I followed. He's in the armory."

Cirilla took Cole's arm and squeezed. "Thank you, Cole."

Cirilla rushed for the armory, her gut twisting with worry. She had thoroughly researched the effects of lyrium withdrawal after Cullen had informed her that he was no longer taking it. He had told her that Cassandra was the person he would go to if he felt like he was no longer worthy of his position. If he was in the armory and in as bad shape as Cole had hinted, she feared she might lose him. She pushed open the door and stepped in to him saying, "Would you rather save face than admit..." Her entrance cut off his rant and with a scowl he looked back at Cassandra and growled, "We will speak of this later." Then he left in a hurry, avoiding Cirilla's gaze.

Before he even made it to the door, Cassandra pitched her voice, making certain he heard her. "And people say _I'm_ stubborn. This is ridiculous." She sighed, her arms still crossed in front of her. "Cullen told you that he's no longer taking lyrium?"

"Yes," Cirilla said, her fears confirmed. "and I respect his decision."

"As do I," Cassandra agreed gently. "Not that he's willing to listen. Cullen has asked that I recommend a replacement for him." Before Cirilla could protest, Cassandra lifted a hand in placation. "I refused. It's not necessary. Besides, it would destroy him. He's come so far."

"Why didn't he come to me?" Cirilla wondered off hand. She had come to find Cullen confided a lot in her that he would tell no one else.

"We had an agreement long before you joined us. As a Seeker, I could evaluate the dangers," Cassandra explained.

"Is there anything we can do to change his mind?" she asked.

"If anyone could, it's you," Cassandra said with a faithful smile. "Mages have made their suffering known, but templars never have. They are bound to the order, mind and soul, with someone always holding their lyrium leash. Cullen has a chance to break that leash, to prove to himself... and anyone who would follow suit... that it's possible. He _can _do this. I knew that when we met in Kirkwall." Cassandra paused and her eyes flicked up and down Cirilla. "Talk to him. Decide if now is the time."

Cirilla was absolutely willing to talk Cullen out of having himself replaced. She had come to trust and rely on him as her Commander, and they had become good friends since he had learned that she was a good listener. Their chess games had continued after they had played the first time in the garden, and she knew him fairly well, at least as much as he was willing to talk about.

She made her way back up to his office, guessing it was likely where he would go. There was no way he would be comfortable with letting Dorian see him in that state. The tower was quiet, but the door was slightly ajar, and she stepped timidly into the room. Just as her hand had landed on the door to push it open, she had heard a frustrated growl that she recognized as coming from his throat. She had to sidestep quickly when he threw something against the wall and it shattered inches from her arm in the doorway. She studied the remains briefly. Splintered wood, some small pieces of glass and metal and a swatch of velvet with a spoon nestled in it. His lyrium kit. She identified it immediately as he gasped. "Maker's Breath! I didn't hear you enter. I..." He closed his eyes and hung his head, shaking it sadly. "Forgive me."

Cirilla shrugged. "So long as you weren't aiming at me. I'm sure the box had it coming."

Instead of the familiar sardonic chuckle she had been searching for, he said, "I swear I didn't know you were..." he moved to circle the desk and approach her, but his knees seemed to give out under his weight and he grunted, his hands landing heavily on the desk. She met him in the middle, his hand coming up to stop her from touching him to help. He must have been in agony. "I never meant for this to interfere."

"Are you going to be all right?" she asked with her softest voice. She knew his head was likely pounding along with the body pain.

"Yes..." he said swiftly and then seemed to catch himself in his own lie. "I don't know," he amended. He pushed off the desk and sighed heavily. "You asked what happened to Ferelden's Circle. It was taken over by abominations. The templars... my friends... were slaughtered." He paced back behind the desk to put his face by the arrowslit window, the light breeze slipping in the window, ruffling his neatly kempt hair. "I was tortured. They tried to break my mind, and I... how can you be the same person after that?" He paused again, gathering his thoughts and scratching idly at his cheek. "Still," he shrugged. "I wanted to serve. They sent me to Kirkwall. I trusted my Knight-Commander, and for what? Her fear of mages ended in madness. Kirkwall's Circle fell. Innocent people died in the streets. Can't you see why I want nothing to do with that life?"

He glanced at her over the fur of his cowl, his eyes misty with anger. "Of course I can. I..."

He cut her off sharply. "Don't! You should be questioning what I've done." He approached her again as she put her hands on her hips and leaned her rear against his desk, shuffling her feet. He was twitchy and the key was to stay casual so she didn't spook him. "I thought this would be better... that I would regain some control over my life. But these thoughts won't leave me..." His agitation rose as he began to rant, pacing between her and the bookshelves against the wall. "How many lives depend on our success? I swore myself to this cause..." He was pumping his arms up and down in front of him, his hands balling into fists. "I will not give less to the Inquisition than I did the Chantry. I should be taking it!" He lashed out, his right fist smashing against the bookshelf and knocking some of his books to the floor and tipping some of the others. "I should be taking it," he repeated, much more softly.

She left her casual position and placed one hand on his shoulder and the other she used to take his fist gingerly from the bookcase, urging him to loosen it. He did so easily and she rubbed at his knuckles, making certain he hadn't broken anything. "You give enough, Cullen. I'm not asking you for more." She dipped her head to catch his eye. "The Inquisition _can _be your chance to start over... if you want it to be."

"I don't know if that's possible," he sighed, closing his eyes in exasperation.

She touched her hands to his chest, tapping on his curiass with her nails to draw his eyes open again so he would look at her. "It is."

He exhaled sharply, an almost smile twitching over his lips. "All right."

She left him alone with an encouraging pat. Anything she might need from him could wait. Her plate was filling up swiftly. She had only just returned, and she already had three separate occasions where she would need to leave Skyhold. She hoped Dorian didn't have anything else for her as she trudged up to the library through the solarium. When she heard raised voices, she paused to listen in.

"I don't know what you think you're doing," Mother Giselle's voice rang through the almost empty library. It was getting late and most of Skyhold was already abed.

"I'm being clucked at by a hen, evidently." Dorian's retort was equally as loud, making some of the sleeping ravens above flap their wings and caw in indignation.

"Don't play the fool with me, young man!" Giselle scolded him.

"If I wanted to play the fool, I could be rather more convincing, I assure you." Cirilla could hear the annoyance rising in Dorian's voice and pictured his crossed arms and scathing scowl before she even hit the middle of the spiraling staircase toward his favorite cubby in the library.

"Your glib tongue does you no credit," Giselle retorted.

Dorian mumbled his response, but Cirilla was nearing the top of the stairs and heard it clearly. "You'd be surprised at the credit my tongue gets me, You Reverence."

When Giselle saw Cirilla approaching, she had the decency to look cowed. "What's going on here?" Cirilla demanded, stopping at Dorian's side and touching his arm gently. He shook his head and took a half step out of her reach.

"It seems the Revered Mother is concerned about my 'undue influence' over you," he explained haughtily.

"It _is_ just concern. Your Worship, you must know how this looks," Giselle said as if Cirilla should know what she was getting at.

"You might need to spell it out, my dear," Dorian encouraged with a half smile tipping his head toward Giselle as he looked at Cirilla with a cocked brow. _Wait until you hear this_.

"This man is of Tevinter. His presence at your side, the rumors alone..."

Cirilla interrupted. "What's wrong with him being from Tevinter? Specifically?"

Giselle sighed as if the burden of justifying their relationship rested solely on her shoulders and she was tired of the mantle, Cirilla could only imagine if Giselle knew about what was going on between him and Cullen. "I'm fully aware that not everyone from the Imperium is the same."

Dorian drew his head back and widened his eyes as if that were news to him. "How kind of you to notice. Yet still you bow to the opinion of the masses?"

"The opinion of the masses on based centuries of evidence. What would you have me tell them?" Giselle demanded.

"The truth?" Dorian suggested with a shrug.

"The truth is I do not know you, and neither do they. Thus these rumors will continue," Giselle warned.

Cirilla took a step closer to Giselle and put on her most diplomatic smile. "There's no cause for concern, Your Reverence."

"With all due respect, you underestimate the effect this man has on the people's good opinion," Giselle informed her.

Cirilla was convinced that Giselle was one of the people spreading these rumors. If not, she was not hindering the slander when she heard it. "Do the people know how he's helped the Inquisition?" she asked, crossing her own arms in challenge.

"I... see," Giselle said, looking between them. "I meant no disrespect, Inquisitor, only to ask after this man's intentions. If you feel he is without ulterior motive, then I humbly beg forgiveness of you both." With a tip of her head, she backed away and made a hasty retreat.

"Well, that's something," Dorian said emphatically.

"She didn't get to you, did she?" Cirilla asked, turning to him.

"No," he said with a smile, uncrossing his arms and placing his hands on her upper arms. "It takes more to get to me than thinly veiled accusations."

"You don't think she'll do anything?" Cirilla asked, glancing after where Giselle had disappeared to.

He scoffed, squeezing his hands on her arms. "Do what? Yours is the good opinion I care about, not hers. I should ask... Do the rumors bother _you_?"

She sighed. She had been talked about constantly since she fell from the Breach. Nothing bothered her anymore. Her only concern was for him. "I wish they wouldn't disparage you. They don't know you."

He looked at her like she was being naive, and she tended to agree. "They know you even less than they know me. Perhaps it's odd to say, but... I think of you as a friend, Cirilla. I have precious few friends. I didn't think to find one here."

"I..." she opened her mouth to respond and he removed his hand from her arm and pressed a finger to her lips.

"Don't speak. I detest confessions, and I'd like to get this over with." He removed his finger when he knew she could be trusted and took her arm again. "Allow me to say I'll stand beside you... against Corypheus, my countrymen, or spurious rumor... so long as you'll have me."

She pulled him into a hug and he groaned audibly. "Let's at least give them something to talk about," she teased.

He sighed and his arms relaxed, circling her shoulders. Then he kissed the top of her head. "You're insufferable."

She chuckled. "I've been told that."

When he released her, he glanced over her person and grinned. "So I've heard a lot of my own rumors since your return from court. I must hear it all."

She retired to her room, exhausted, but feeling good to be home. She stripped to her smalls, then sat at her vanity to scrub the khol from her eyes and brush out her hair. She heard the click of her door and then the lock sliding into place before his heavy footsteps started up the stairs. Her heart started racing. When he hit the landing, he leered at her already mostly naked and grunted in approval. "You know," he said, his voice low and menacing. "I've been thinking about this since the dance floor, and I came prepared."

He held up a small sack that dangled in his hand and her eyes widened. Maker only knew what he had brought with him that he considered being 'prepared'. "What's in..."

He crossed the room to her swiftly and took her by the wrist, dragging her to her feet. She whimpered as he spun her, wrenching her arm behind her back and holding her tightly to his chest with his other arm, his hand around her neck just tightly enough that she could not make a sound. "I'm pretty sure that tonight, you won't be speaking unless spoken to, Kadan." He wrapped the threat in a gentle word, letting her know that no matter what, she was safe. It didn't stop her heart from racing with adrenaline. He moved them around, pushing her against the nearest free wall. "Stay," he ordered and took his hand from her throat. His warmth moved away from her and she attempted to crane her neck to see what he was doing, but his hand was there in an instant, turning her back around to face the wall. "I said stay. Don't worry. You'll find out what's in the bag sooner or later." His voice was both dangerous and alluring as she picked up on the careful teasing. He dragged his fingers through her hair as his hand left her and she shuddered as they continued down her spine. She had a feeling that it was a good thing that she hadn't planned on traveling from Skyhold for a few days. Whatever he was planning was going to be intense if he was starting off with such a light touch. She heard the clink of bottles when he moved away and started to empty the bag. She bit her lip, fighting the urge to sneak another peek. When he approached her the next time, he had a pair of black cloth strips draped over his hand. He drew her head away from where he had pushed it against the wall and one of the strips went over her eyes. He tied it tightly, so even fluttering her eyelids was impossible. Next, he placed his palms on her shoulders and spoke again. "Listen to me very closely, Kadan. The second binding is going in your mouth. It's going to be tight, but not only does it gag you, but it protects your teeth. His hand on the right trailed down her arm until he picked up her hand by the wrist. "It also makes saying Katoh pretty damn hard, so I'm going to need you to pay very close attention." He flattened her hand in his and slapped it against the wall three times. "That is your out. That is your safety." He repeated the gesture with his hand over hers. "One. Two. Three. If I see that, I stop. Flat hand. _Not_ a fist. Make it loud. As loud as you can. Show me." His hand left hers and she pulled pack from the wall with a flat hand. Her palm slapped the wall three times, and it echoed through the room. "Good," he praised, then drew her head back. "Now open that pretty mouth." She obliged and the cloth slipped between her teeth. He tied it so tightly that it dragged her lips apart and dug into the corners of her mouth, wrenching her jaw. It was uncomfortable, but she had the feeling that she was in for much worse. There was more rustling, and then a sort of light clattering that reminded her of a belt buckle. He took her hands, one at a time, and she felt fur-lined leather being wrapped around her wrists. Then her hands were drawn upwards and secured above her head, loosely enough that she could use her new safety signal, but tightly enough that she could not do much else. Once she was trussed up, he stepped back, trailing his hand down her spine again and then grunted in approval when she shuddered and felt warmth pooling between her legs.

After a few moments that allowed for her fingertips to begin going numb, and some shuffling around on his part, she felt him approaching again. He pressed against her, hugging her against him briefly before he undid her breast band and removed her smalls, leaving her completely naked, save for the tails of the blindfold and gag that tickled down her back. "You make a gorgeous trophy, Kadan." He reached out and took one of her ass cheeks in his palm and squeezed it hard. "I might hang you on the wall more often just for this view." She felt a long, thin bit of leather touch along her back as he rested his other hand on her shoulder. "Can you feel that?" he tapped the instrument lightly on her rear. When she nodded, swallowing a bit of the saliva that had collected in her mouth around the gag, he tapped her again. Then he pulled away, and she felt the tip of the instrument start at the base of her neck and trace lightly over her entire spine. He started to talk as he trailed all over her back with the tickling bit of leather. "You know, I think that my favorite part of you to look at is your back. Did you know you have these little dimples right over your ass cheeks? One here..." he prodded a little harder with the instrument before moving it to the other side. "And one here..." He paused as she shifted forward under he weight of him jabbing the thin tool into her skin. "Have you figured out what this is yet?" She shook her head, stepping back into place with her pulse thudding in her neck. She was shuddering with anticipation as he toyed with her. He chuckled deeply, making her whimper, her body reacting as if she could feel the vibration of his voice. "I guess I'll need to demonstrate for you them."

He pulled the instrument from her skin and she heard him shuffle his feet to set his stance and a light grunt escaped him before the first strike landed across the meat of her ass. She bit into the gag, the sting of the blow bringing tears to her eyes that she could not blink away around the blindfold. He waited a moment, to see if she might tap out, but she braced herself and waited for the next blow. With an approving grunt, he drew back and landed another blow directly on top of the last one. Her jaw closed around the cloth again and this time she whimpered. He did not wait after the second blow. Immediately, he pulled back and moved slightly lower. This was a different pain than she was used to. Normally, it was blunt and throbbing. This was sharp and stinging, lighting her nerve endings on fire. It was comparable to when the mark activated to close a rift.

She took it in, jerking with every bite of the instrument. She focused on the feeling. It was thin and leather, but beneath was something else. Something both malleable and hard. The tip had been wider as he'd used it to trace across her back. Suddenly after probably the tenth blow, she realized what he was using. It was a riding crop. He struck her again, and she balled her fists, growling around the gag. In spite of the pain ratcheting through her after every blow, she was being rewarded by her body, She was dripping wet, her pain/pleasure switch having found it's happy center and turning the crisp pain into a warm pleasure.

After probably the twentieth blow, he stopped again. Her body sagged with the reprieve, her tense muscles relaxing. She felt a trickle down her her ass, and she couldn't tell if it was sweat or blood. Her skin burned, the fire spreading all across her rear, making it impossible to tell through the stinging whether he had broken skin or not. Maker help her, she didn't care. Her lower lips were aching with anticipation. She would have taken any number of lashes if it meant she could feel this vulnerable yet be so perfectly safe. He took away the need to think. All she did was think, plan, strategize. Here, now, all she needed to do was give herself over to him and he would take care of everything.

Without warning, the lashes started again. This time, the crop landed diagonally across her back from shoulder blade to waist. She cried out in surprise, her hands wrapping around the chains that held her in place. This time, he paused, gauging her reaction before continuing in a criss-cross pattern over her back. After twenty more lashes, he stopped again. She heard him toss the crop onto the bed and then step closer. She hissed when his hand landed on her spine. It felt cool against her heated skin and after the initial shock if his sweat on her raw flesh, she melted into his touch. "You took that real nicely, Kadan," he praised, leaning closer so his entire body pressed against her back. He had removed his own clothes at some point, and she could feel his erection pressing into her back. "How do you feel?" In response, she used the little bit of strength she had left in her arms to leverage herself with the chains and press back into him, heedless of the fire of her back and ass. He wrapped an arm around her waist, flattening his palm over her stomach to press their bodies flush, Then he lifted her upwards, smearing her own sweat into the stinging marks and she bucked forward with nowhere to go. He held her close, humming soothing words into her ear while he positioned them both. She felt him slip along her, the moisture that had been drawn from her making it a swift movement that touched his tip to her clit, stimulating the already sensitive organ. He drew back and then having realized how ready she was, he pushed inside. Every stroke he made rubbed against the raw skin of her ass and her body ached to pull him deeper. She offered up small whimpering sounds of both pain and pleasure as he hammered himself inside her, thrusting roughly along her back wall and amplifying the building pressure of her orgasm. She was on her toes, her palms flat on the wall, doing her best to push him as deep as he could get with each thrust. The gag did not stop her from crying out from her throat when his restraining palm slid downwards and began to rub around her clit.

Her body spasmed around him as the building pressure of the dam broke over her, washing away all sensation of pain and flooding her with a burst of mind numbing pleasure. After two more strokes, he pulled himself free of her and spilled between her legs, so he wouldn't leave a painful mess on her back. He buried his face in her neck, her lolling head dropping to the side to make room for him. He trailed his hands up her body, one remaining on her waist while the other reached up and easily undid her shackles. He held her arms above them still, thoughtfully not letting them fall before slowly lowering them down in front of her. Her weight never settled on her feet as he took her in his arms and carried her to the bed, carefully depositing her on her stomach. Once he had arranged her, he started to speak to her in a soothing tone. "I'm going to take the gag out first and you're going to drink some water. After that, the speaking rule goes away. Then, when you're ready, I'll take the blindfold. Tap three times if you agree." She lifted her forefinger on the hand closest to him and tapped it on the bed lightly. Her skin was starting to scream again as the orgasm faded and all that was left was the pain. It radiated throughout her body and when he shifted her arm out of the way so he could untie the gag, she whimpered. The quiet soothing words came again as he freed her mouth, opening her up to a new pain. Her jaw felt locked in place, the corners or her mouth nearly split and rubbed raw from the cloth. She swallowed tentatively and the closing of her mouth was agony.

He left her side briefly, returning with the water he had promised. When he shifted her carefully so she could drink, a wash of cold ripped through her and she started to shiver. A good amount of the first sip of water did not quite stay in her mouth when she swallowed, but she got better after that, managing to take three whole swallows down her throat before he took the glass back and settled her back on her stomach. "You're allowed to talk now," he said gently. Then she felt the bed shift and knew he was lying beside her. She smelled the earthy tang of elfroot. His hand fell gently on her back again and she hissed and nearly lurched away, but he held her firmly in place. "I need to make sure I didn't break skin anywhere," he scolded. "You're really fair skinned and it would have been easy to make that mistake my first time using the crop on you. Hold still, please."

His use of please made her listen. When he picked his hand up again and then began to prob at her back, she gritted her teeth and kept as still as she could, her hands balling up the sheets in her fists. "What's the verdict?" she asked breathlessly once he pulled his hand away.

"No broken skin," he said, almost proudly. "Now, I brought a salve for the burn, but it's up to you if you want me to use it or not. Some people like to keep the marks for a while, but others only like it for the duration of the encounter."

"Can you take the blindfold off?" she asked before answering his question.

The bed shifted and she felt him loosen the tie on the blindfold before slipping it off her head. His hand ran through her hair again before he set the blindfold aside. She blinked, readjusting her eyes and the shivering started anew. She was starting to think the salve might be a good idea. "Before she could voice her opinion, Bull said, "You're shivering." She lifted her head to turn her gaze on him when he shifted again to reach for the duvet at the bottom of the bed. He pulled it over her legs, careful to avoid where her ass was still on fire. "You're giving me shock reaction, Kadan."

He made no suggestions nor any attempt to sway her decision. He simply observed. She nodded, meeting his eye. "I'll take the elfroot," she said sleepily.

He chuckled. "And here I thought you were going to be stubborn."

"I'm full of surprises," she mumbled just before he touched a cool, sticky substance to her back. It felt like ice against the burn of the lashes and her shivering intensified.

As he smoothed the salve over her back and then over her ass, he talked again. "Almost like the surprise that you can take forty lashes from a crop, barely bat an eyelash, and still be begging me to fuck you afterwards. That's damned impressive, Kadan. Not to mention hot as shit."

"I wish I didn't need the salve," she grumbled, even as the elfroot started to take effect and her skin hummed before lighting on fire again as it healed.

"Maybe next time," he said, shifting to set the jar of salve on the table beside the bed. "You're body's not used to that much abuse. We started off pretty mild, building up to the really rough stuff. I wasn't sure how you would respond."

She hummed as the fire dulled to a light ache and he traced a finger along her jaw. "You could have just asked. Wasn't our relationship built on a question game?"

He hummed a chuckle. "You know me. I usually have everything figured out just by looking at it. You threw me, Kadan. That's why I played it cautious, because a lot of times the things you telegraph are the complete opposite of what you actually do."

She rolled onto her side, facing him and biting her lip, the stinging nearly completely gone. "I've been trying to be better than I was. It's hard to discover yourself beneath a mask that had even you convinced it was your real face."

"Yeah," he said, lowering his head slightly so his horn tapped on the headboard lightly. "There's been a lot of self discovery for both of us. Without you, I don't think I could have handled becoming Tal-Vashoth. But I've come to realize that everything I cherish in this world wasn't given to me by the Qun, and I think I'm finally okay with that."

She reached out and laid her hand on his cheek, tracing his cheekbone with her thumb. "I'm glad I could help. In any capacity. I know giving up the Qun was the hardest thing you've ever done, but you never would have forgiven yourself if you'd lost the Chargers on that beach."

He sighed and pulled her closer to him, his body heat calming the lingering shivers. "Get some rest, Kadan."

Cirilla made the long journey to Valence, bringing only Bull as a bodyguard, because she sensed that this trip was going to pan out like the one she had taken with Dorian. Highly personal. The village was tiny, and the Chantry much smaller than even Haven's had been. Leliana met her outside and Cirilla quietly nodded to Bull, who nodded back to let her know he would wait outside.

Inside the Chantry was a narrow entryway lined with pillars and paintings on the walls. It might seem grand to the townsfolk, and that was all that mattered. Leliana knelt in the foyer, paying homage to the statue of Andraste deeper in the Chantry. That Cirilla didn't feel the need to do the same, stung her more deeply than Bull's crop had. She flinched as she looked upon all of the statues and religious symbols and felt nothing.

"It's just as I remember it," Leliana said, breaking the silence of the early morning.

"You didn't tell me you'd been here before," Cirilla commented as she moved closer to her spymaster.

Leliana looked up at the sun shining through the high stained glass windows and smiled. "After the Blight ended, I came here to see Justinia. She was just Dorothea then, a revered mother."

"It's peaceful here," Cirilla smiled too, knowing the peace was there, but not feeling it. She was on edge. Something was off. "You must have good memories of this place."

"It was a place of comfort. It is good to see it's still untouched by Corypheus," Leliana agreed.

A woman in clerics robes came from further in the Chantry, drawn by their voices. She stopped in the archway between the hall and the pulpit and tipped her head. "Leliana? Is that you?"

"Sister Natalie!" Leliana said with excitement so brazen it made Cirilla's nose twitch. "What are you doing here? I thought you were in Val Royeaux."

The two women met in the middle of the hall and embraced, Sister Natalie completely bypassing Cirilla. As they hugged, Leliana dropped all pretext and frowned at Cirilla, shaking her head a fraction to indicate that Natalie could not be trusted. Unaware, the sister answered Leliana's question. "No, I've been here since Justinia died. This place makes me feel like... like she's still with us."

Leliana stepped out of the embrace, her smile back on her face. "Inquisitor, this is Natalie, a trusted friend."

When Cirilla moved to stand between them, Natalie's eyes widened. "Wait. 'Inquisitor'? You... You brought the Inquisitor here?" She fell to a knee, bowing her head. "My lady, forgive me for not recognizing you earlier."

Cirilla sighed. "I wish more people would fail to recognize me."

"Oh, I... I see." Natalie got up, eyeing Cirilla with a wary smile.

"Natalie, listen. There is something hidden here," Leliana admitted. "Something Justinia left for me."

"Oh, really? What is it?" Natalie said almost eagerly.

"I don't know, but we'll find it," Leliana frowned slightly. "I'm curious to see what brought us all here." She pulled the letter from her pockets and unfolded it gently. "Justinia's letter came with instructions for me. They were a little cryptic." That sounded like the Divine. Leliana read from the page. " 'Always remember that faith sprung from a barren branch. That light has no fear of darkness. Above all, that strength lives in an open heart.' "

"She must be hinting at something here. Let's look around," Natalie suggested.

As they split apart, Leliana casually began to talk to Natalie as if she were catching up with an old friend, but Cirilla could read what she was doing from a mile off. She was interogating Natalie. "Do they still sing verses from the Benedictions every Friday? That canticle was Justinia's favorite."

"Yes, of course. We'd never give up the traditions of our most beloved Divine," Natalie responded, none the wiser to Leliana playing her.

"That is lovely to hear."

Cirilla sighed softly and studied the paintings hung all around the hall. Suddenly, she spotted one of a gnarled bush that held a single white rose. "Faith sprung from a barren branch," she mumbled, approaching the painting. The trim on the wall beneath the painting's frame was scuffed. Cirilla traced fingers over it and then realized that if she tucked her fingers behind the painting, there was a small mechanism that could be pulled down. She pulled it and heard a very small click. Whatever she had done was working. She just needed to find the rest of the mechanisms.

Leliana sighed as she ran her own fingers along the feet of the tall statue of Andraste. "I stare up at the Breach sometimes. It's terrifying but beautiful in its way."

"It is beautiful," Natalie agreed.

"Have you seen it by sunrise?" Leliana asked with a dangerous smile.

"When the sun rises through it, it splits into what looks like a thousand suns like a broken mirror," Natalie described.

"Yes, spectacular, isn't it?"

Cirilla found nothing that made her think that it depicted 'light has no fear of darkness', so she approached the large braziers beside Andraste's statue as the brightest source of light, aside from the sun pouring in. Behind the brazier on the right side of the statue, another mechanism was hidden to look like ornamentation. She pulled it and heard another light click.

"You must be careful, Natalie," Leliana warned. "Justinia's enemies are making their move, vying for position and the Sunburst Throne." When Natialie had no response, Leliana tried a different tack. "Justinia saved me, but not in the way you'd think. She wouldn't let me give up. She saved me by forcing me to save myself. There's always light where there's hope."

Cirilla discovered the final mechanism beneath a painting of a knight stabbing his sword through the heart of a woman where the artist drew the heart out in the open. A much louder click that the previous two sounded and Cirilla felt the air in the room shift. Natalie was saved from responding to Leliana further. "What was that?" she said instead.

"Looks like we opened something," Leliana said.

She and Cirilla moved to the tall mural on the wall of Andraste being assaulted by Tevinter. The mural was split in two, revealing a hidden mural beneath of Andraste depicted as the Maker's Bride alongside her worshipers. The mural lifted to reveal a hidden alcove. A single altar stood with an ornate box atop it. As soon as Leliana saw the prize, she spun and pushed Natalie against the statue of Andraste, a knife to her throat. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

Cirilla approached the pair, crossing her arms. "Good old Leliana was playing you the whole time. Didn't you realize?"

Leliana sneered. "They never sing the Benedictions here on Fridays, Natalie. Something so simple, and you got it so wrong. I wanted to believe, but you were lying from the start." When Natalie pressed her lips together and glared at Leliana defiantly, Leliana chuckled lightly. "Keep that pretty mouth shut if you must, dear. You've already told me everything I need to know. The prickleweed burs on your hem, talking about the sun rising through the Breach. It all points to a single place. Morelle in the Dales. Grand Cleric Victoire's bastion. She sent you, didn't she? Victoire was always an opportunist."

"I want to know what this Grand Cleric planned here," Cirilla demanded.

Leliana answered for Natalie. "She sent Natalie here to see what Justinia was hiding, no?"

"The Inquisition has turned Thedas away from the true Chantry. It must be stopped," Natalie spat angrily.

"Stop us?" Leliana snorted. "You must be joking."

"Mother Victoire is well loved by many. The Inquisition has more enemies than you know." Natalie was certainly sure of herself.

"And Victoire thinks she can ally with them?" Leliana scoffed.

Cirilla could tell that Leliana had been close with Natalie, so she offered the woman an out. "We don't have to be at odds, Natalie. You could come with us. Join the Inquisition."

Natalie frowned at her. "I was called to serve the Grand Cleric. I will not betray her. Kill me then. I'm not afraid to die for my beliefs. At least I still know what I believe."

In spite of her defiance, Cirilla spoke to Leliana. "We don't have to kill her."

"No," Leliana turned to Cirilla. "I must protect the Inquisition. She is an enemy." Then she laid her eyes back on Natalie.

"I see what you've become," Natalie challenged before starting to recite a verse from the Chant, closing her eyes.

Before she got far, Leliana sidestepped out of the spray of arterial blood as she swiftly slit Natalie's throat. Cirilla cringed, but she was well aware that sometimes people needed to be sacrificed. Leliana stared down at her for a moment as her blood began to pool out around her head, then dismissed the body, going back to the alcove and the ornate box. "No," she gasped in disappointment. "This can't be it. There's nothing here!"

Cirilla moved up behind her, but stayed out of the cramped space making it impossible for her to see what Leliana was hiding with her body. "It's not what you expected. That doesn't mean it's nothing."

Leliana's arms shifted and she said, "There's a message, carved in the lid. 'The Left Hand should lay down her burden.' She... she's releasing me." She paused and her shoulders slumped. "The Divine has a long reach, but it is always her Left Hand that stretches out. A thousand lies. A thousand deaths. Her commands, but my conscience that bore the consequences."

"She apologized in the Fade. She said she failed you. This is what she meant," Cirilla realized softly.

"All this time, Justinia carried the fear that she was using me, just like I'd been used in the past. But Marjolaine's games were trifles. Justinia gambled with the fate of nations. She needed me. No one else could've done what I did. She knows that."

"Sacrifices are necessary. You know that," Cirilla said softly, hating that it was the truth. It was the life of a bard.

Leliana turned around and smiled sweetly. "I know. And hearing you agree gives me the courage to do what must be done." She closed up the box and tucked it under her arm before leaving the alcove and looking over the Chantry. "Justinia tried to save me, but all it's done is made me realize I don't need saving. There is work to be done. I'll see you back at Skyhold."

When Bull and Cirilla returned to Skyhold, it was to a very flustered Josephine. The main hall had been cleared out and she stood near Cirilla's throne, a disgusted look on her face as two Inquisition soldiers guarded a crate. When Cirilla walked past the crate with a frown and approached Josephine, the woman shooed her to the throne and began to speak as formally as she normally would when Cirilla had a prisoner to judge. "First, this wasn't my idea. It is an issue born of titles and heir apparency and..." she stopped and sighed as a light breeze came through the open door of the hall and the scent of decay met Cirilla's nose. Josephine pressed forward, obviously eager to get finished with the issue. "Halamshiral is having difficulty freeing trade routes formerly controlled by Duchess Florianne." Cirilla felt her eyes widen as they fell on the crate. Someone in Orlais had packed up the Duchess' corpse and shipped it to them?! "Had she been tried, her assets would be forfeit and considerable bureaucracy avoided. So they ask that we judge her."

Cirilla managed to keep her composure by pinching the bridge of her nose and sitting forward which she immediately regretted. "There is worth and weight in every judgement, no matter how unusual..."

Josephine paused for a few breaths and then said, "That was the time alotted for rebuttal. Her crimes negated any claim to..." Josephine lifted hr hand to her face and covered her mouth briefly. "Forgive me, there is an odor."

Cirilla found herself clearing her throat and sitting back to try and escape the stench. "Strangely enough," she said. "Something similar happened to an uncle of Emperor Leandre the Second. His trade routes were returned to the reigning monarch. Why don't we just follow suit?"

Josephine nodded emphatically. "A wise choice! Thank you for making it swiftly." The box was carted from the hall and the doors left open to clear the air. Josephine stopped Cirilla once more before she could get away. "It seems that Warden Blackwall has not been seen in a few days. There was a note for you in his quarters."

Josephine handed Cirilla the small bit of parchment and she thanked her. As she headed from the hall and toward the rookery, she read the note.

_Inquisitor,_

_You've been a friend and an inspiration. You've given me the wisdom to know right from wrong and, more importantly, the courage to uphold the former._

_It's been my honor to serve you._

It sounded to her that Blackwall had left the Inquisition. After she had a talk with Leliana, she would need to see if she knew anything about what had made him leave. Leliana was up in the rookery, one of her scouts standing at her side, reporting. "Grand cleric Victoire is scrambling after the loss of her agent," he said.

"Good. Her support base is in Morelle. Tear it down. Grand Cleric Victoire wishes to make an enemy of the Inquisition? I'll give her what she wants. Doesn't Victoire have a young cousin? Lord Firmin? She dotes on him," Leliana suggested darkly.

"Yes, Mistress. I believe that is so," the scout agreed.

"Good. Have him... collected. He shall be an honored guest, and make sure the Grand Cleric hears about it."

"At your command." The young man nodded his head to Leliana, turned and bowed to Cirilla and then left to carry out the orders he was given.

"Is everything under control?" Cirilla asked Leliana.

"Perfect," she said cheerfully. "The Grand Cleric and others like her will fall in line soon enough. You see, when I am ruthless, it gets us where we need to be. It's something to be proud of. Why fix it? How funny that her regret is what finally puts my own to rest. I _chose_ to become her Left Hand, knowing what it meant. It was my weakness that stopped me from fully committing to my task."

"You have a good heart. It is not a weakness," Cirilla pointed out.

"You are too kind, Ciri," Leliana responded with a smile. "Call it what it is. The Inquisition needs me, just as the Divine did, to do what no one else dares. Death and deception are my trade. It is what I am. It is what I always will be. Was there anything else you needed?"

"I suppose you've heard about Blackwall?" Cirilla asked, dropping Leliana's dark words. She was a spymaster. They needed to be ruthless to do their jobs right.

"Yes. I had his quarters searched and there was a paper that had gone missing from last week's reports balled up beneath his mattress. It mentions the hanging of a man in Val Royeaux. That may be the place to find him," Leliana reported.

"I'll gather the team. Maybe I'll get some answers."


	14. She of the Highwaymen Repents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finishing off red lyrium mines.

What she found in Val Royeaux shocked her to her core. How she had not figured out that Blackwall had been lying the entire time was beyond her. They walked up on the dreary gallows, a light misting rain coming down around them. It had been a while since they had been rained on and she was surprised by that. It had been such a common occurrence before the change of season. A man stood between a chevalier and the hangman, his hands bound behind his back and his head hung low as the chevalier read off his crimes. His crimes didn't matter and she tuned out the droning of the chevalier to look for Blackwall in the crowd.

"Well, this is grim," Varric mumbled as they prepared the man to be hanged, slipping the noose around his neck.

"Poor bastard," Sera agreed before shrugging. "So! Where's food? Orlesians always stock these things."

Cirilla was in the middle of giving Sera a scathing glance when she heard Blackwall's voice ring out across the damp courtyard. "Stop!"

She whipped her head around to see him. He was about as wet as everyone else standing around as he climbed the stage to stand beside the prisoner. "A Grey Warden," the chevalier announced.

"This man is innocent of hte crimes laid before him. Orders were given and he followed them like any good soldier. He should not die for that mistake."

"Then find me the man who gave the order," the chevalier demanded.

Blackwall looked away, his expression guilty. "Oh, shit," Varric gasped.

"Blackwall!" Cirilla shouted, drawing his attention and trying to stop him from doing something stupid. She pushed closer in the crowd, knocking a woman carrying a parasol out of the way.

When he locked eyes with her, he spoke, projecting his voice so all could hear, but very clearly speaking to her alone. Hie expression was not only guilty, but regretful. "No. I am not Blackwall. I never was Blackwall. Warden Blackwall is dead, and has been for years. I assumed his name to hide, like a coward, from who I really am."

"You," the man in the noose gasped, as if only just then recognizing an old friend. "After all this time..."

Blackwall turned to the man and looked at him reassuringly. "It's over. I'm done hiding." Then he turned back to the crowd. "I gave the order. The crime is mine. I am Thom Rainier."

His eyes looked apologetically at Cirilla as he was shackled and dragged off to the prison. Cirilla cursed and made her way through the dispersing crowd, following closely behind the parade of chevaliers. She felt nauseated. Blackwall had been nothing but loyal to her and the Inquisition, and she had never even guessed that he was not exactly who he said he was. Bull stopped her briefly, a hand on her shoulder, sensing her unease. "I didn't know either, Kadan. It's not your fault."

"I need to see him," she said softly. Bull let her out of his grip and she barged into the jail, demanding to see Blackwall or Rainier, or whoever he was.

The walls of the jail were surprisingly dry in spite of the weather outside. Skyhold's cells always seemed to get damp whenever it rained. She followed the single narrow hallway down a flight of stairs into a dark cell block. He had been put in the farthest from the stairs, the darkest cell. She could barely see him as she approached, taking a torch from the wall to light her way. He sat stoically on a bench, his hands clasped together between his knees. He looked broken, defeated. She stood outside the cell, her heart racing as she studied him and he stared into nothingness, his eyes unfocused. Finally, he drew in a heavy breath and spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't take Blackwall's life. I traded his death. He wanted me for the Wardens, but there was an ambush. Darkspawn. He was killed. I took his name to stop the world from losing a good man. But a good man, the man _he_ was, wouldn't have let another die in his place."

She took a few steps closer to the cell, the torch creating dancing shadow on the cold stone floor. "You saved that man. That took courage." She found herself consoling him, even now after he had lied to her from the start.

"Courage?" his voice rose as he looked at her. "I killed innocent people... destroyed Mornay's life and the lives of others like him. One moment of courage will not make up for that." He paused and frowned. "Why are you here?"

She shrugged, not completely certain why she had felt the need to see him, to hear what he had to say. "That depends on what you say."

He stood, shaking his head, his voice rising again. "Don't you understand?" He slammed his hands on the bars and shouted at her, making her take a step back with wide eyes. "I gave the order to kill Lord Callier, his entourage, and I lied to my men about what they were doing! When it came to light, I ran. Those men, my men, paid for my treason while I was pretending to be a better man!" He stopped and his head came to rest on the bars. "_This_ is what I am! A murderer, a traitor... a monster." he sunk to his knees, still clutching the bars and refusing to look at her. She could taste his remorse.

"Would a monster have given himself up? Somewhere along the line you stopped pretending," she said before turning from him and taking the torch with her, leaving him in darkness.

Cullen was waiting for her in the front of the jail. "I have Leliana's report on Thom Rainier."

Cirilla took the paper from him and thanked him silently before reading over it. It was months old and she sighed. "Let me guess. Our spymaster had this lying around somewhere, didn't she?"

He smiled half heartedly. "It would have been difficult for anyone to connect Blackwall to Rainier. Even Leliana has something of a blind spot when it come to Wardens." Then he sighed. "What do we do now?" After a brief pause where she cocked a brow and pressed her lips together, he said, "Black... Rainier has accepted his fate, but you don't have to. We have resources." He took her arm and led her off to the side to lower his voice in front of the chevaliers. "If he's released to us, you may pass judgment on him yourself."

"If it were up to you, what would happen?" she asked, fully trusting Cullen to have it all figured out. He usually did.

"What he did to the men under his command was unacceptable," he growled with a sneer. "He betrayed their trust, betrayed ours. I despise him for it." Then he sighed again, his expression softening. "And yet he fought as a Warden. Joined the Inquisition. Gave his blood for our cause. And the moment he shakes off his past, he turns around and owns up to it. Why?"

"He wanted to change," she pointed out. "To prove that he'd really left his past behind, he had to face up to it."

"Saving Mornay the way he did took courage. I'll give him that," Cullen agreed. "But I can't tell you what to do."

She reached out and patted his arm. "Have Rainier released to us."

"We must move quickly. We can explore our options back at Skyhold."

Josephine had people out arranging Rainier's release and Cirilla had just about reached her limit on personal favors until Cole approached her with a sweet smile and a swatch of a map. She returned his smile and took the map wordlessly. Cole, Varric, Solas, and herself all set off to Redcliffe. When they arrived, Cole led them up near the griffon statue where she had been abducted the last time she was there. It was closing in on evening and the village was nearly deserted. A man and a dwarf were speaking quietly by the statue and obviously up to nothing good. She stopped and frowned when the man sent a shifty glance in their direction and shooed the dwarf quickly. When the dwarf left, he approached them. "Greetings. Can I help you?"

Cirilla felt a wave of recognition and anger sweep through her, tugging at her navel as Cole flickered in and out of sight as he bore down on the man. "You." Suddenly, the man was on the ground and Cole was holding him in place with a hand on his forehead and a dagger pointed at him. "You killed me!"

The man held up his hands in fear. "What, I don't... I don't even know you!"

Cirilla's hand went to her stomach as Cole's anger flooded her. "You forgot. You locked me in the dungeon in the Spire, and you forgot, and I died in the dark!"

"The Spire?" Cirilla could feel the man's recognition as he choked on the word.

"Cole, stop." Solas demanded forcefully when she could not find the sense to inside the swirling emotions that were both hers and his.

Cole's head spun to glance at Solas as Cirilla leaned a hand on a nearby fence post to regain her equilibrium around the dizziness that washed over her along with the creeping nausea. With Cole's distraction, the man slipped from his grasp and ran for the hills, tripping over his own feet in terror. Cole moved to follow him, his own steps slow and meaningful. "Just take it easy, kid," Varric stepped in front of Cole, stopping him in his tracks.

"He killed me," Cole accused, pointing after the man. "He killed me. That's why it doesn't work. He killed me and I have to kill him back!"

Cirilla swallowed the nausea and confusion and shouted, "Before anyone gets killed, I need to know what's going on."

"Cole," Solas said firmly. "This man cannot have killed you. You are a spirit. You have not even possessed a body."

Cole hung his head and Cirilla watched the memory play out behind her eyes. "A broken body, bloody, banged on the stone cell, guts gripping in the dark dank, a captured apostate. They threw him into the dungeon in the Spire at Val Royeaux. They forgot about him. He starved to death. I came through to help... and I couldn't. So I became him. Cole."

Silence filled with empathy and sadness followed before Varric cleared his throat. "If Cole was an apostate, that'd make the guy we just saw a templar. Must've been buying lyrium."

Cole started to walk after the man again. "Let me kill him. I need to... I need to."

Varric approached Cirilla and laid his hand on top of hers where it still rested on the fence post. "The kid's angry. He needs to work through it."

Solas shook his head. "A spirit does not work through emotions. It embodies them."

Varric rolled his eyes. "But he isn't a spirit, is he?" he looked at Cirilla as if he knew what she could feel. "He made himself human, and humans change. They get hurt, and they heal. He needs to work it out like a person."

Solas closed his eyes in disappointment. "You would alter the essence of what he is."

Varric shook his head. "He did that to himself when he left the Fade. I'm just helping him survive it."

Cirilla could still feel Cole's anger washing through her. Varric was right. "Cole will never grow into a real person until he comes to terms with what happened."

Varric squeezed her hand and then pulled his away with a bitter smile. "Leave it to me." He followed after where Cole was staring after the man. He patted Cole's arm and started toward the hills as well. "All right, kid. You want revenge? Come with me."

Cirilla was drawn after them, keeping her distance. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" the man shouted when Cole and Varric caught up to him when he ran to the edge of a cliff and had nowhere to go.

His remorse was genuine. Because Cole could feel it, Cirilla could feel it. "Sorry isn't going to help him now, is it, kid?" Varric said encouragingly.

"No," Cole said angrily.

Varric took Bianca from his back and loaded a bolt before handing her to Cole. Cirilla didn't think he had ever let anyone else touch the crossbow before, let alone fire it. "Then pull the trigger and put him down like a mad dog," he said softly.

Cole took Bianca and lifted her so he was sighting through the scope Varric had mounted on the top. There was no way he could miss. Cirilla felt his rage overwhelm him again before settling out in a quiet anger as his hands shook. A wordless cry left his lips as he fired the bolt, aiming wide and hitting the ground beside the man's feet. It was a choice. A human choice. And it made his stomach queasy.

"How're you doing, kid? Feel any better?" Varric asked as he took Bianca from Cole's hands and slid her back into place on his back.

Cirilla shook her own head as Cole shook his, his emotions slipping from her "No," he whimpered.

"You can't make it all go away. I learned that the hard way," Varric soothed with a hand on Cole's upper arm.

Cole reached out his hand and muttered, "Forget..." but Varric's hand tightened around Cole's bicep.

"No. He needs to remember. You, too." Cole allowed Varric to drag him away from the shocked man. "We're done here."

On the ride back to Skyhold, Cirilla could no longer feel Cole, but from the expression on his face, he was taking to being human one step at a time. She was painfully aware of him, like she never had been before. It was as if before, she remembered him, but not fully until he would appear before her and her memories of him would sharpen. Where he had been a fuzzy image, he was now clear as day. Varric took to being a mentor of sorts, talking to Cole and trying to lighten the mood of the entire party. Solas had been silent since she had made her decision.

Cole disappeared after they rode into Skyhold, but by slinking off, not in his usual poofing magic trick. Cirilla, Varric and Solas all trod up the stairs to the main hall and into the solarium where Solas finally decided to make his point heard. "For all we know, the amulet will now never function. Cole remains vulnerable to binding."

"No, hs isn't," Varric scoffed. "The amulet didn't work because he's too human, right?" Solas looked away, suppressing a huff behind his lips. "Maybe now the kid's also too human for that binding magic to work on him."

"I hope you're right," Solas sighed.

The door opened and closed and Cole entered, clutching his stomach. "It still hurts. When do I stop hurting?"

Cirilla smiled and took his hand to briefly squeeze it. "Being with your friends can make you feel better."

"Come on, kid," Varric offered. "Let's go for a walk. It'll clear your head."

"The left hand misses a friend with two different names. She's hurting, sad, alone, but... Everyone can see me now. They remember. How do I put honey in Leliana's wine without her noticing?" Cole worried.

Varric patted his back. "I can help with that."

They left together, Cole trailing behind Varric like an excited child. Solas sighed. "It is good that he is not entirely changed, however human he becomes."

There were two separate red lyrium mines to shut down. Cirilla went to Bianca first, traveling to the Deep Roads entrance in the Hinterlands. They were attacked by dwarves outside the entrance and Cirilla frowned. "Mercenaries?"

"Looks like Carta," Varric identified as he knelt beside one of the bodies that Bull had relieved of his head. "Lyrium smuggling would be profitable around here."

She nodded and they entered Valammar on full alert, drawing weapons briefly when they heard a voice just inside the entrance. "Finally! I started to think you weren't coming!"

Bianca stepped from the shadows, a bow slung over her back and a quiver of arrows handy. Varric chuckled when he realized it was her, glancing around at their surroundings. "Nobody said you had to hang out in the creepy cave while you waited."

"Well, I did wait," she grumbled. "So let's make this quick. These idiots are carrying the red lyrium out in unprotected containers. We don't want to stick around long enough for it to start 'talking' to us."

"We'd better get to work," Cirilla agreed.

"Sounds good to me." Bianca gathered up a few things and they continued further into the cave. It widened just around the bend and stone stairs led upwards.

"Must be an old dwarven outpost," Varric mused.

"What was it for?" Cirilla wondered.

Varric shrugged. "Trade, maybe? Your guess is as good as mine."

Bull chuckled softly and she shot him a scathing glance because she knew that he had just made a 'mine' joke in his head. He shrugged and she rolled her eyes as they reached the top of the stairs. The landing was the beginning to a wide stone bridge that stretched across a gaping chasm below. In the middle of the bridge stood two massive dwarven statues carved from the stone itself while they were digging the structures. More Carta dwarves stood in their way around every turn and with Bianca's help, they were easily able to slough their way through the outpost, making it to an upper terrace before Bianca started to talk to Varric between fights. "So is this what you do now?"

"Beg pardon?" he asked in a teasingly indignant tone.

She shrugged and adopted her own teasing tone. "Skulking around in caves. Shooting guys. Is this your day-to-day?"

"I usually try to avoid the caves," he grumbled, rolling his shoulders.

Following the terrace around, they came to a set of stairs that led down further into the outpost. At the bottom, Carta dwarves were already fighting. "Darkspawn," Cirilla warned as the creatures swarmed across a bridge below. She had never seen one up close, unless you counted Corypheus, and he was amazingly well preserved compared to this lot. They were bald and scaly, their skin missing in patches that oozed black ichor that carried an incurable infection that would either kill you or turn you into a mindless ghoul. The little bit of armor they wore was rusty and mismatched, and they carried weapons to match.

"We may be too close to the surface for these to count as 'Deep Roads'..." Varric stated. "But have I mentioned I hate the Deep Roads?"

Cirilla and Bull hung back, allowing the ranged fighters to take out the Darkspawn, to reduce the risk of infection, before they swooped in and handled the Carta that were left. They crossed the bridge toward where the Darkspawn were coming from and met another terrace to follow. Bianca fell back into her casual banter. "You had me worried, you know?"

Varric scoffed in irritation, "What did I do now?"

She backhanded his arm. "That letter you sent me about the red lyrium was the first I'd heard from you since the Chantry explosion."

Varric screwed up his mouth. "Had it been that long?"

"Seriously," she continued. "If you'd died in that mess, I'd have come back to Kirkwall and dug you up just to kick your ass."

He chuckled. "What would you do if I'd been cremated?"

A wry smirk crossed her face and she said, "Kick your ashes, of course."

Cirilla frowned as she walked ahead, wondering what the story was between Varric and Bianca. They clearly cared for each other, but it didn't seem like they saw each other very often. She made a note to ask him when they got back to Skyhold. Down and around another set of stairs, they found the tunnel collapse where the Darkspawn were crawling up from. They collapsed the debris and made a temporary plug until Cirilla could send a mage down there to seal it off completely.

Varric started the next conversation as they crossed a rickety wooden bridge across the chasm, way below where they had come in. "How is whatshisname?"

"Bogdan?" Bianca asked brightly as if she knew that saying the name would make Varric scowl. It had the desired effect and she continued. "He's in Nevarra right now, selling my machine to wealthy landowners."

"I heard some of the Guild were trying to get you named a Paragon for that contraption," he suggested.

"That's not going to happen, even if I am ten times the smith Branka ever was. A surfacer Paragon? Never." They approached what looked like a sealed door, but Bianca shuffled up beside it and pulled a key from her pocket. "I built these doors. They probably shut this one from the other side when they heard the ruckus we were making." She inserted the key, turned it and the door slid into the floor. "Ta-da!"

Cirilla frowned. "You've been here often enough to renovate the cave?"

Bianca wrinkled her nose at being questioned. "You already know I've used this entrance in the past. I don't know if Varric's told you, but the Merchant's Guild is cutthroat. Literally. I built the doors to keep rivals from following me down here and arranging 'accidents'."

"I guess it's a good thing you came along, then," Cirilla shrugged.

"I get that a lot," Biance said with a snarky smile. Then she stepped aside. "After you."

Not far into the door, more Carta were waiting. Once they were dead, Bianca said to Varric, "You know, this is almost fun. Kind of like old times."

"I don't recall us ever shooting people together," he chuckled.

She sniggered. "Remember crashing Bartrand's Guild dinner? We might as well have shot him."

Varric hummed, "This isn't nearly as dangerous as pissing off my brother.

"How long are you going to be in Orlais, do you think?" she wondered.

He shrugged. "As long as this weird shit is going on at least. Maybe longer. Why?"

"You'll have to stop by before Bogdan gets back. You should see my new workshop," she offered suggestively.

"I'll see what I can do," he said dismissively. "You know your family will kill me if I stop by, right?"

She waved off his suspicion. "They're not going to kill you."

He grunted. "You always say that, and they always send assassins."

Cirilla shook her head. She had gotten her fill of assassins for a lifetime. Carts of red lyrium were lying around the room they were in, pushed toward the walls and the humming song was starting to get on Cirilla's nerves. She had been keeping her own habit of humming and singing aloud to herself, since the incident with the assassins. The noise made her an easier target. But now, she felt like she needed the contrary music to drown out the lyrium. She closed her eyes and drew in a breath as they navigated the singing stones, humming a melody. Bull's own hum joined hers briefly and she glanced at him. He was smiling contentedly. "You really don't know how much you miss something until you lose it and then gain it back," he said softly as Bianca and Varric took the lead.

At the back of the room, Bianca started to shuffle among some papers on a desk and then grabbed up a key "There you are," she mumbled before hustling to the closed door and locking it. "They won't be able to use this entrance again." She sighed in relief.

"Bianca..." Varric said in an accusing tone, shaking his head and drawing Cirilla's attention away from Bull.

Cirilla took a good look at the key in her hand and frowned. "That's exactly like your key. How did they get a copy?"

"Well... funny story," Bianca shuffled her feet awkwardly. "When I got the location, I went and had a look for myself. And I found the red lyrium, and I... studied it."

"You know what it does to people!" Varric scolded with an angry scowl.

"I was doing you a favor!" she argued, her own sneer deepening. "You've had people studying it for years now, and they've come up with nothing! I just... wanted to figure it out."

"How did you go from studying red lyrium to giving the location to Corypheus?" Cirilla urged.

"I found out that red lyrium... It has the Blight, Varric! Do you know what that means?"

"What? Two deadly things combine to form something super-awful?" he guessed sarcastically.

"Lyrium is alive!" she announced. "Or... something like it. Blight doesn't infect minerals. Only animals. I couldn't get any further on my own, so I looked for a Grey Warden mage. Blight and magical expertise in one, right? And I found this guy, Larius. He seemed really interested in helping my research. So I gave him a key." she bit her bottom lip as she finished.

"Larius?" Varric asked with shock. "He was the Grey Warden we met in Corypheus'... Oh, shit." he hung his head and then growled. "I knew something seemed off!"

"I didn't realize until you said you found red lyrium at Haven. I came here and... well... Then I went to you," Bianca said passively.

"That name means something to you, Varric?" Cirilla interrupted.

He nodded. "He was at the Grey Warden prison where we found Corypheus. And he definitely wasn't a mage before."

Cirilla sighed, the pieces all falling into place. She scowled at Bianca. "You told Varric you had a 'lead' so we'd straighten out your mistake."

She nearly whimpered. "I know I screwed up, but we did fix it! It's as right as I can make it!"

Varric stepped forward, his anger radiating off him like she had never seen before. He was normally the most relaxed person she knew. "This isn't one of your machines! You can't just replace a part and make everything right!"

"No, but I can try, can't I?" he growled in return. "Or am I supposed to wallow in my mistakes forever, kicking myself, telling stories of what I should have done?"

Varric let out a bark of irritated laughter that she was used to hearing from Dorian. "As if I would tell stories about my own mistakes!"

"Oh, for pity's sake, would you two just get a room," Cirilla interrupted, breaking up the argument.

"Sorry, Cirilla," Varric mumbled, scratching the back of his head. "We've done all we can here. Bianca, you'd better get home before someone misses you." He backed away from her.

"Varric..." she said sadly.

He waved a dismissive hand and turned from her, leaving everyone behind. "Don't worry about it."

Bianca watched him for a moment and then approached Cirilla. She glared up at her and said, "Get him killed, and I'll feed you your own eyeballs, Inquisitor."

"That was quite an exiting line," Bull said as his eye followed Bianca from the room.

"Let's get out of here," Cirilla sighed, the red lyrium starting to make her skin crawl.

Back out in the sunshine of the Hinterlands, Varric sighed as she walked beside him, Bull and Sera lingering behind and talking animatedly. "I'm glad to have answers, but... shit. The second he showed up, I knew. I just... I let this mess happen. I gave her the thaig. And I am not good at dealing with shit like this."

Cirilla threw an arm around his shoulder. "I don't think anyone is equipped any better than you are."

"No, no!" he shrugged her off. "The point is... I don't. I don't deal with things. If Cassandra hadn't dragged me here, I'd be in Kirkwall right now, pretending none of this was happening."

She nudged him again. "You know that's not true. You've worked as hard as any of us to stop Corypheus."

"Is that true? I don't even know anymore." He sighed heavily. "Thank you. For your help back there."

"After all this, do you think you'll see Bianca again?" she asked with a smile.

"I always do," he returned the expression.

They had a long way back to Skyhold, and Cirilla knew that she might be able to get some information in his current mood. She was curious. "Tell me more about Bianca," she hinted.

He sighed again and cast her a sidelong glance. "I'm not making any promises here. Ask."

"How do you know her?" she started off small and not too personal.

"I met her years ago, when she still lived in Kirkwall and I was looking for someone with... mechanical skills. Bianca is, beyond a doubt, the most brilliant smith you'll ever meet." is expression was fond as he described her. "I haven't seen her since she got married and moved to Orlais."

Cirilla frowned. "Bianca is married? Somehow I thought that the two of you had a history."

He cringed. "Bianca's family are Kalnas... surface dwarves so conservative, they don't take a piss without asking the Ancestors first. They picked out a Smith Caste boy for her. Wealthy, respected, has a great anvil collection. The perfect husband. I heard the wedding was lovely. The one Bianca actually showed up for, anyway."

"All right, tell me the truth. Bianca made your crossbow, didn't she? I mean, it has her name," Cirilla teased.

"It's not that simple," he explained, glancing around as if the hills had ears. "The Carta thinks my Bianca was a freak success by a Carta inventor who could never duplicate it. If they thought anyone else was involved... someone who could make one work... things would be bad. So I really can't tell the story. I don't want any more blood on my hands."

"What makes the Merchant's Guild such a danger to her?" Cirilla wondered, remembering the conversation from Skyhold.

"To be fair, it's more of a danger to me. Technically, we're not supposed to be within three hundred leagues of one another. If it got back to the Guild that we were seen together, they'd freeze my assets. And then have me killed. Maybe not in that order."

She chucked. "What in the world did you do to cause that?"

"We almost started a clan war. Does it matter? I can't change it now," he said dismissively.

"So how long have the two of you been together?" she asked, sensing him starting to clam up.

"Well, if you want to split hairs, we're not. Usually, there's a continent between us at all times. We write letters. Now and then, we manage to meet up. I don't know if that's 'together'. Shit, it's been, what? Fifteen years? Great, now I feel old. Thanks."

Cirilla giggled at his grunt that he followed up with a friendly smile. The expression told her he was done talking about Bianca, so she dropped the subject, content to simply follow the trail back to the Inquisition camp and their horses.

Cirilla gave her companions a few days between traveling to wind down after the Deep Roads while she caught up on paperwork. She was informed that Morrigan had finally arrived and made a note to speak with her soon and welcome her to Skyhold. Spring was coming around and Cirilla decided to take her mound of paperwork out to the gardens to enjoy the fresh air. She took a seat at a table beneath one of the gazebos after grabbing up a handful of small rocks to keep her parchments from blowing away in the warm breeze that trickled around the garden, stirring up the scent of flowers and herbs. She hummed while she worked, an old Dalish song she had learned years ago about the coming of spring. She couldn't fully recall the words, but the music had always stuck with her.

While she was signing off on a report about the requisition of arms for the new recruits, a small voice interrupted her. "You're the Inquisitor!" She glanced up with a smile at the nasally voice of a young boy. He stood before her, looking a little bit awestruck, but smiling politely. He had brown hair styled in a proper cut that seemed Orlesian. His accent, however, was Ferelden. He wore a casual doublet and pants in black and maroon. Across his chest was a prancing griffon crafted of silverite. Cirilla tipped her head at the boy who could have been no older than 10. It was a bit of a shock to see a child at Skyhold. It wasn't unheard of among the servants and other staff, but none so finely dressed. A small frown creased his brow lightly and he said, "I thought you'd be scarier. Mother said you were scary."

Cirilla drew her head back with her own frown. "Why would your mother say such a thing?"

"Because people fear the next age if it comes too soon," the boy explained as if it were normal for a boy of ten to say something like that.

Morrigan approached the boy from behind and placed a hand on his back before Cirilla could muster a response. "Kieran. Are you bothering the Inquisitor?"

"Of course not," he said wrinkling his nose before looking over Cirilla and smiling again. "Did you _see_ what's on her hand, Mother?"

Morrigan looked at Cirilla with a tight lipped smirk and said, "I did see." Then she looked at the boy again. Kieran, she had called him, and patted her hand once. " 'Tis time to return to your studies, little man." Kieran sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping, and she gave him an encouraging nudge before he trudged off. Morrigan sniggered with adoration as she watched him leave. Her ball gown was replaced by a set of black hide trousers beneath leather tassets in haphazard lengths. Most of her torso was exposed, her modesty protected by a burgundy cowl that wrapped around her waist and hung loosely over her shoulders so it could be pulled up over her head. Beneath that was a simple top made of triangles of cloth held together by string. She had finger-less gloves on both hands, one which reached all of the way to her shoulder to be accented by raven feathers as her gown had been. The other reached the middle of her forearm and a leather band was wrapped around her bicep, leaving the rest of her shoulder bare. She still wore the amulet, but the thick necklace she had worn it on before was much more muted for everyday wear. When she glanced back at Cirilla with her golden eyes, she was smiling. "My son. Never where you expect him to be, naturally."

Cirilla set her quill down and leaned back in her chair to cross her legs at the knees and offered Morrigan the seat across from her with a wave of her hand. "I didn't know you had a son."

"Why would you?" Morrigan asked, gingerly settling herself in the chair, her posture stiff. "I take great pains to not let my reputation affect him in any way. To most in the Imperial Court, he is simply a quiet and well-spoken lad. Perhaps the heir of some distant family. But he goes where I go. Worry not, Inquisitor... Kieran is a curious boy, but seldom troublesome."

"Will his father be joining us as well?" Cirilla asked, not concerned at all about Kieran. He was just a child.

Morrigan frowned. "I have raised Kieran on my own for quite some time now, as was my preference from the start. So 'tis but the two of us, Inquisitor. Your fortress is a large place, and you will scarce notice our presence."

Cirilla waved a dismissive hand. Morrigan seemed to think that Cirilla saw her presence as a hindrance. She was no different from any of the other people in Skyhold. The Inquisition welcomed all kinds."He seems like a fine young man."

Morrigan shook her head. "But not the sort one might expect a woman like me to raise? No son of mine would be raised in a marsh, bereft of contact with the outside world. His future will be difficult enough without my adding to his burden." Whatever she meant by that, Cirilla didn't have the chance to find out as a light breeze crossed through the gazebo, fluttering the edges of her papers. Morrigan breathed in and exhaled with a smile. "To think, until recently this place stood decrepit, occupied only by the desperate and the lost. Now it is party to events that threaten to shake the world. I wonder if it is pleased."

Cirilla had not been able to find much information about her stronghold in spite of looking in every book she could find. She knew it had magic, could feel it on her skin, but there was little else to be found. "It sounds like you've heard of Skyhold before."

Morrigan nodded. "This fortress was built upon the remains of a site holy to the ancient elves. They called it Tarasyl'an... 'The place where the sky is kept'. It is said that from here, they reached up to the heavens to bring them down to rest. They abandoned it, as did the humans who came after them. Bones laid upon bones, silent until your arrival."

Cirilla allowed the breeze to rustle her hair and smiled. "I like this place. I've made it mine."

Morrigan looked pleased. "The magic in this place has seeped into the stones, protecting it from darkness. Those who let it fall to ruin did not know what they possessed. You, I think, shall do it justice." She paused, and Cirilla took up her quill to continue her paperwork, occasionally glancing up to see Morrigan studying her. Finally Morrigan spoke again. "You were kind to welcome my aid, Inquisitor, even knowing as little of me as you do. I will do my best to aid your cause with all the knowledge at my disposal. This I swear to you."

"I appreciate whatever help you can give us," Cirilla said in thanks.

Morrigan nodded. "Some might think Corypheus a madman for seeking godhood. Yet one must ask... What _were_ the Old Gods? What secrets of theirs did the ancient magisters know? What I fear... what all should fear... Is not that Corypheus believes he can succeed. 'Tis that he actually may." Morrigan was quiet for a time as Cirilla continued her open invitation to chat as she continued her paperwork. Morrigan seemed to have trouble opening up, several false starts coming in the form of her opening her mouth and then closing it tightly again. Finally she said, "I understand you have spared the Grey Wardens from destroying what goodwill was left them? 'Tis good of you, considering the weakness Corypheus exploited was their own doing. Still, should a true Archdemon one day arise, they will no doubt be needed. Or so they would have us believe."

Cirilla had an inkling that from the way she spoke of the Wardens, the silverite griffon on his clothes, and her history in the fifth Blight, that Kieran's father was a Grey Warden. His age and the timeline matched up. Curious to know more about Morrigan without pressing too hard, Cirilla smiled then she swept her hand over the table, palm up in invitation. "I'd like to know more about you." She asked nothing specific, leaving it open for Morrigan to share what she was comfortable with. It was how she had started with a lot of her friends, gathering information and building her opinion behind a smile. Now, after the months spent living side by side the same people, she finally felt like herself. She felt comfortable.

"Ah, yes," Morrigan said gravely. "Whence comes the mystery woman, slinking her way into the Inquisition's ranks?" There was a light grin that formed on her face. "Once I was an apostate, living well away from the banal influence of the Chantry in the Korcari Wilds. Then came the Fifth Blight with its Darkspawn, and I left Ferelden for the Empress' court. 'Tis certain the nobles of Orlais breathe a collective sigh of relief that I am now here."

Cirilla knew there was more to her involvement in the Blight from Leliana's reports and Zevran's comments at the Winter Palace. She had also heard Leliana's songs about the Hero of Ferelden. Morrigan was downplaying her role. Cirilla allowed the deception and asked, "You were in Ferelden during the Blight?"

Morrigan nodded. "The Blight began in the Korcari Wilds, so yes... I experienced it firsthand. Indeed, I fought at the Hero of Ferelden's side for a time. She is the reason the Blight was defeated." Morrigan sighed, her eyes going distant. "I wish things had gone differently in the end. It had to be, yet..." She paused, her expression pained as if she had lost a friend. Then she swallowed, shrugged it off and continued. "And after that, I came to Orlais. The last place one would look for me, or such was my hope."

Cirilla found herself agreeing. "The Orlesian court seems like an odd place to find someone like you."

Morrigan hummed a chuckle. "That was the point, originally. I knew the empress was intrigued by the arcane, and that I could answer questions no Chantry mage could." She made a face like a sneer and Cirilla could guess the exact Chantry mage she was thinking of. Morrigan and Vivienne must have gotten along swimmingly at court. "Thus we fit together nicely. I became her adviser and she my benefactor and source of refuge." Morrigan shrugged languidly. "Truth be told, our arrangement would not have lasted much longer. Too many wagging tongues, even for Celene."

"Tell me more about your son," Cirilla asked tentatively.

"He is a very special young man," Morrigan said evasively.

Cirilla raised a brow. "Special in what way?"

"In every way," Morrigan enunciated before sighing. "At first, Kieran was a means to an end, but as he grew..." she paused and looked seriously at Cirilla. "I never thought of myself as a mother, Inquisitor. I had no good example to follow. I find myself becoming something I can barely recognize."

Morrigan seemed hesitant to continue and Cirilla nodded with an understanding smile, going back to her paperwork. They spoke a few more times, but finally, Morrigan excused herself and disappeared into the garden. Cirilla finished her stack of reports and gathered her piles up to return them to the war room. Her next step was to use her time to catch up with her friends. Blackwall had managed to slip out under her nose, and she hadn't even seen it coming. She didn't believe any more of them were harboring grand secrets as he had been, but she had been wrong once. She slipped up to the Rookery, needing to have a chat with both Leliana and Cassandra about the news that they were being considered for Divine. The news had reached them already because Mother Giselle had taken her nosiness away from hovering around Dorian to pestering them both about their duty to the Chantry.

Leliana seemed to be thinking hard about the idea as Cirilla approached her standing before the small relief of Andraste she kept in her space. She glanced at Cirilla as she approached and then went back to gazing at the statue. "So it's true," she sighed softly. "Some look to Cassandra or even me as Justinia's successor. I never thought the idea would gain momentum. Of course with the other Candidates out of the picture..." She must have meant Victoire and her band of Clerics, though she didn't say it.

Cirilla leaned idly against the wall. "Is becoming Divine something you really want?"

Leliana looked pensive, yet amused. "When Justinia was alive, I would've laughed at anyone who even suggested that I could be her successor. Things have changed. Still, I don't know. Restoring the Chantry will be like trying to steer a sinking vessel through a storm."

Cirilla smirked. "No one would fault you for abandoning ship, you know."

Leliana snorted. "Out of the ship, and straight into the sea." She sighed. "You think Thedas hates mages now? If the Chantry falls, don't you think the people will blame magic? Look at all that's happened... Kirkwall's Chantry, the war, the Breach. Mages are always involved. Without the Chantry to guide, that hatred will spiral out of control."

"No," Cirilla agreed sadly. "We don't want that."

Leliana smiled. "And the Chantry can see that it doesn't happen. The people are sheep, Inquisitor. They need to follow." She smiled sweetly. "But this is a discussion for later. If Corypheus wins, finding a new Divine will be the least of our problems."

Cirilla left Leliana to her musings and headed through the Library to have a brief chat with Dorian, getting the brush off from Solas as she passed through the solarium and then onward to the armory to see what Cassandra's thoughts were. She caught the tail end of Mother Giselle trying to talk her into leaving Skyhold. As Mother Giselle left, pleading Cirilla talk some sense into Cassandra, Cirilla approached the already annoyed woman. "The fun never ends in Skyhold, does it?" She teased.

Cassandra pursed her lips. " 'The Inquisitor was _hilarious_'. That's what they'll say one day, you watch." Then she sighed, uncrossing her arms. "I assume you've heard that Leliana and I are both candidates to be the next Divine." Cirilla nodded, frankly glad that she had not been thrown into the pool, herself. The shock it would be to elect a Divine that was not only a former bard, but that had a Qunari lover that she allowed to beat her for pleasure. She nearly chuckled at the thought as Cassandra continued. "Because of what happened at Halamshiral, of course. The empire favors you, thus everyone close to you. So now the Chantry bandies our names about without even asking us first."

"If you don't want it, then tell them so," Cirilla suggested.

Cassandra gave her a dubious look before holding out a hand for Cirilla to step outside. In the warmth of the spring day, the fire in the armory was sweltering. "Surely it was never meant to be like this. The Chantry, the Circle of Magi, the templars... this cannot be what they intended when it all began." Cassandra paused beneath the tree where her stool usually sat in the shade. "The Chantry should provide faith. _Hope._ Instead, it cannot veer from its course, even in the face of certain death."

Cirilla frowned. Cassandra was one of the most devout people she knew and it was odd to hear that opinion. She told her so. "I'm surprised to hear you, of all people, say that."

Cassandra seemed to find that amusing. "Oh? Am I not the same woman who declared the Inquisition against the Chantry's wishes? In all my years as a Seeker, I did what I was told. My faith demanded it. But now my faith demands something else... That I see with better eyes."

"If you're concerned, then make it better," Cirilla shrugged. There was a time when she would have considered Cassandra's words blasphemy, but now she made sense.

Cassandra studied her thoughtfully. "Did you know Varric is Andrastian? Oh, he blasphemes with every second breath, but deep down, he believes. His heart is virtuous." Cirilla wondered if it physically hurt Cassandra to admit that particular truth. "But he would never step foot in a Chantry. It should be the first place to which the virtuous turn. It needs to change. Perhaps I must be the one to change it."

Curious, Cirilla asked, "What would you change about the Chantry?"

"The Circle of Magi has it's place, but it needs reform. Let the mages govern themselves, with our help. Let the templars stand not as the jailors of mages, but as protectors of the innocent. We must be vigilant, but we must also be compassionate to all peoples of Thedas, human or no. _That_ is what I would change."

"Your determination is admirable," Cirilla said with a smile, remembering to a previous conversation they had had before Cassandra had even been considered for Divine.

"I do nothing that is not worth doing with all my heart," Cassandra nodded.

"It's your most attractive trait," Cirilla teased. Her teasing had the desired effect, Cassandra smiling "So this is your new crusade?" Cirilla guessed, not certain how Cassandra was planning to both do this and to repair the Seekers as she wished.

"I've agreed to nothing yet," Cassandra scoffed, still smiling.

"And if the Chantry calls on you?" Cirilla wondered.

"Then I will do whatever I can, for as long as I can." She sighed. "I suppose I should not be so concerned. The clerics speak my name for now, nothing more. For now, restoring order and stopping Corypheus remain our priority."

"Is this, becoming Divine, something you actually want?" Cirilla wondered. She had given Leliana the same courtesy of personal opinion.

Cassandra frowned and tipped her head. "Why should what I want matter?"

"Why _shouldn't_ it matter? Don't you have the right to be happy?" Cirilla pointed out.

Cassandra held up a hand. "It is very simple... the Chantry needs to survive. To do that, it must change. I have never believed in asking another to do what you are unwilling to do yourself. So I look upon this as an opportunity. I owe it to myself and all of Thedas to seek the Sunburst Throne."

"There are other ways you can change things," Cirilla pointed out.

"Perhaps," Cassandra shrugged. "I may not have a choice in the matter, if the Chantry clerics pick another."

Cirilla had a lot of her own thinking to do on the matter. It seemed that both Cassandra and Leliana were willing to a point. What remained was what might be best for the people. Excusing herself, Cirilla climbed to the battlements and began to make a circuit of Skyhold, gazing out over the mountainous landscape beyond. She didn't expect to run into Cullen, standing perfectly still and breathing deeply of the mountain air. He was smiling, his eyes closed, but he heard her boot steps an the stone and he turned to offer her a friendly greeting. "I wanted to thank you... when you came to see me... if there's anything..." He exhaled deeply, his hand lifting to rub at the back of his neck before he chuckled in self deprecation. "This sounded much better in my head."

"I trust you're feeling better?" she said with her own smile.

"I... yes," he agreed.

"Is it always that bad?" she asked with sympathy. He had been in rough shape, his emotions all over the place.

"The pain comes and goes. Sometimes I feel as if I'm back there... I should not have pushed myself so far that day," he explained lightly. He had identified the problem and seemed fine with the solution.

"Skyhold won't fall apart if you take an hour for yourself now and then," she reminded him. She made a note to let Dorian know that he should probably pay Cullen more visits to help him relax.

"I'll keep that in mind." He chuckled. Then he looked out over the mountains again, sighing. "I've never told anyone what truly happened to me at Ferelden's Circle. I was... not myself after that. I was angry. For years, that anger blinded me. I'm not proud of the man that made me." He looked down at his hands, balling them lightly into fists before loosening them again and resting them casually on his sword hilt. "Now, I can put some distance between myself and everything that happened. It's a start."

"The past isn't always pleasant. Sometimes you have to let go and move on." She had done a lot of that in the last few months as she had slowly rediscovered who she truly was and came to terms with the lies and the sculpted image of herself that was now part of her past that she needed to let go of.

"I can't forget what happened. But it led me here. I can make that mean something," he said impassionedly. "Anyway, I meant to thank you, not trouble you further. You've enough to worry about. How are you holding up?"

"I'll feel better when we take down Corypheus," she admitted. Corypheus was like a constant shadow, waiting to strike when she least expected it. They were out of leads at the moment. She hoped that her trip to Sahrnia in the next few days might give them something more to work with.

"As will I. He will not elude us forever," Cullen agreed.

They stood together in silence for quite some time, each of them inside their own heads. Cirilla found herself humming again as she leaned against the parapet, watching the sun slowly traversing the sky. Their quiet time was soon interrupted by a loud belch and Sera giggling as she ran up to Cirilla. "Hey, you! You have time? It's not a question, let's go. I've got something I want to do for you. Just come, you won't need your gear and stuff."

"Sera? Explain?" Cirilla said warily, glancing apologetically at Cullen who smirked in amusement.

"Ugh," Sera grumbled. "Just come on, will you? I haven't wanted to do this with anyone for a long time."

She grabbed Cirilla's hand and dragged her to her overly decorated room where she ducked out the open window and pulled Cirilla with her. She sat and started digging in a sack that had been sitting on the roof. Cirilla shrugged and sat on the edge of the roof waiting to see what Sera had up her sleeve. She had clearly been planning this for a while. Sera fished out a few cookies, keeping one for herself and handing over one to Cirilla. They looked half baked and there was flour spattered here and there like it hadn't been sifted. Cirilla raised a brow. "We're eating. On a roof."

"They're horrible, right?" She made a disgusted face as she picked at her cookie. "And raisins, ugh! I frigging still hate cookies!"

Cirilla grinned as Sera looked at her expectantly for a reaction. "You know, this is about as far from what I expected as we could get."

Sera looked away briefly before starting to talk again. "I got caught stealing when I was little, yeah? You get alienage or worse for that, but the 'Lady Emmald' took me in. She was sick and couldn't have children. I had no parents. It worked out." Sera sighed lightly. "Anyway, she gets a year sicker, so I ask about her cookies. Because mums make cookies. I can pass that down, or something. Turns out, she couldn't cook. She missed that talk with _her_ mum. The ones she 'made' she bought and pretended." Sera started to scowl as she glanced at Cirilla. "Aw, right? Well, no, she was a bitch. She hid buying them by keeping me away from the baker. She did _that_ by lying that he didn't like me, didn't like elves. She let me hate so she could protect her _pride_. I hated him so much, and I hated..." Sera paused, gathering herself as her voice started to crack. With a deep breath, she continued. "Well, she died, and I hate pride. 'Pride cookies'. But! This is great. You're great. So I thought maybe, me and you could make some... I don't know, 'us cookies'?" She looked away and picked at the raisin sticking out of her cookie. "Because then I could like them again? Ugh, it's stupid."

Cirilla actually knew how to bake and she smiled, thinking that she might be able to give something to Sera. "You know what? That would be great."

"See, I knew..." her head snapped around and she frowned at Cirilla. "Wait, really? Because it seemed frigging daft every step to me." She sighed. "I suppose it's not really about them. I hate learning lessons. Makes my stomach hurt. Anyway, I'll throw this rubbish away. Next time will be better, yeah?"

"Sera?" Cirilla reached over and plopped the cookie back in the sack and then took Sera's hand. "Anytime. Can we get off the roof now?"

Sera giggled. "Oh, yes, please. Smells like bird and dank. This part, not a good idea. Thanks, yeah? Feels good, this." They went back inside, Cirilla taking up Sera's lute and strumming as they joked the evening away.

After a few days, they were back on the road heading for Sahrnia. Cirilla had packed her cloak because the reports told them the weather could not have been further from the beautiful spring breezes of Skyhold. She didn't know how the others could stand it as she huddled in her cloak, her hood pulled up around her head to block the frigid winds. It was almost as bad as the trek she had made through the mountains after she had escaped Corypheus at Haven. Bull, as usual, wore not much more than his harness, but when he pulled her closer to him to shelter her from the wind, his skin was still as warm as ever, radiating heat. Sera wore a cloak, but she was not shivering like Cirilla, and Varric wore his usual coat unbuttoned, his chest hair still peeking from his tunic.

The things they found in the quarry were monstrous. Cirilla knew from the trip to the future with Dorian, that red lyrium was grown from human beings, but the quarry was full of the creepy stuff that radiated heat and called to her like a lullaby. There were townsfolk locked in cages, waiting their turn to be 'planted'. She freed the ones she could and gathered whatever information she could in between fighting off the red templars that guarded the quarry with a vengeance. It took them an entire day to clear out the templars in the quarry, and none of them was without injury. They slumped back to the nearest camp that she had established at the tower of bone after liberating it from the red templars, and Cirilla sent one of Harding's messenger birds to Skyhold with the notes an formulas they had found scattered throughout the mine.

The next day was spent, taking the keep back from the remaining templars so they could not rebuild their operation once the Inquisition experts properly tore it down. It had been especially trying to get rid of the demon that had been the 'gardener' that oversaw the whole operation. He had tried to tempt her with a 'choice', but nothing he had was worth letting him free to continue to grow red lyrium. In the end they had ended up having to kill him. It was hard fought, each time they thought he was dead, he took on a new form, as if he embodied every type of demon there was. Whatever a 'choice spirit' was, she never wanted to come up against one ever again.

She went straight to Cullen when they returned to Skyhold. He was absolutely disgusted. "I've been reading the letters found in the quarry. Samson is making red lyrium from people?"

She took in his curled lip and creased brow. "Not anymore. Not in that mine," she assured him.

"I knew Samson had fallen, but this? It's monstrous. We have to put an end to him." He sifted through some papers on his desk and held one out to her. "Look at these orders from the encampment. That armor must give Samson extraordinary power. We may not be able to stop him."

"Take away his armor and the lyruim, and Samson's just another man," she said distractedly as she read over the papers.

"I couldn't say how. Templars are trained _not_ to destroy expensive magical equipment. We need an expert in enchantments. Perhaps Dagna could find a way to ruin Samson's armor," he suggested.

Cirilla nodded. "I'll go see her," she agreed. Then she saw how frustrated Cullen was and she leaned over his desk. "Don't worry, Cullen. We'll stop Samson."

After reassuring Cullen, she headed straight to the Undercroft to speak with Dagna. “Dagna?” she said in greeting, the dwarf spinning to turn a cheerful grin on her. “What have you learned of Samson?” Dagna was always smiling. She was a brilliant arcanist and had done a fantastic job on implementing her little tricks into Cirilla's day to day weapons and armor. They talked a lot over a drink that Dagna called coffee. Cirilla had only ever heard of Antivans having access to the stuff, but Dagna seemed to have a connection. It took the already enthusiastic little dwarf and made her even more chattery.

“He should be dead!” she said emphatically. “I mean, you could make a _hat_ out of Red Lyrium and kill people, especially the wearer. Samson's armor, it's genius. To do all this and not go insane, it must be resistant, or he _is_ insane... or both...”

“You're not comforting me, Dagna... he's dangerous either way,” Cirilla said, crossing her arms.

“Oh, fine,” Dagna waved her hand. “I just need time. And tools. People. And Red Lyrium. For tests, you see?”

“Is that wise?” Cirilla asked, raising a brow.

“Everything is safe if handled properly. And you don't touch it long. Or breathe it. I mentioned the hat, right? No hat... Time and resources, Inquisitor. I'll get what you want. Now, shoo! I've got work to do.”

Cirilla trusted that Dagna would get her results. It was a waiting game now, and Cirilla decided she would check in on Cole. She had seen a marked decrease in his little visits to her quarters, but since returning from Redcliffe and the shock of becoming human, he seemed happy enough. She got as idea as she headed to his place among the rafters of Herald's Rest where he still seemed to gravitate to. She approached him with a smile that he returned. "How would you like to get out of here, maybe do something fun?" She offered excitedly.

"I don't know," he said tentatively with a tip of his head. "I've never tried."

"Come on," she encouraged taking his hand much like Sera had taken hers to drag her to the roof. She led him to the stables, saddled a pair of horses, and they rode for Val Royeaux. There was a little cafe that she had been to before, and she thought a friendly lunch date might show Cole a little bit of what it was like to be human and spend time with your friends instead of listening to people's thoughts from the rafters, which was still apparently a skill of his.

"Inquisitor! You honor us with you presence!" the maitre d said emphatically as they walked up to the entrance. "May I bring a sampling of fine cheeses for you and your guest?"

"I don't eat," Cole said off-hand as he took in his surroundings.

"Well, then, just a bottle of a fine Ghislain white to start." The maitre d led them to a quiet table near he back of the crowded cafe. "Please enjoy your meal this evening, Your Worship."

When he bowed away, Cole watched him go as Cirilla took a seat. Soon he joined her in the chair across from her. "He saw me. They all see me."

"Next you'll be eating and drinking and... everything else," Cirilla said with a smile as she rearranged the silverware on the table to her liking.

"What else is there?" Cole asked in wonder.

She smirked. "Have you used the privy yet? That should be enlightening."

Instead of commenting on her joke, Cole fell into an explanation. "I find people when their pain leaves them open. I ease the pain. I leave. They forget. That was enough for me. Now they remember, and I'm not sure... ah." He chuckled with a joy that seemed out of place.

"Cole?" she asked as he glanced around again, his expression one of realization as the waiter set the bottle of wine on their table, pouring two glasses and leaving. She took a sip, savoring the bite of the grapes mixed with sweet apples.

"I told you about Rhys, the mage who could see me. My friend. My only friend, for a long time. Evangeline showed me that templars could be kind, but even she..." He sighed, closing his eyes briefly as if he were trying to sort through his own emotions.

She smiled sweetly. "If this is going to be another trip through the wringer, please wait until I've finished my wine. Because this..."

" 'This is an excellent Ghislain, and I do _not_ want it ruined'," he finished for her in a light mockery of her voice. Then he smiled too. "Quick words hide a gentle heart. You wouldn't have brought me here if you didn't care. But this isn't about them. It's about..." He paused to search for the right words. It seemed difficult for him to form his own strings of words after speaking through other people's thoughts for so long. "When I found out I wasn't human, when I grew, I lost Rhys. I lost my only friend. That's why I was scared about letting all these people see me. That's why I laughed."

"You're laughing at yourself?" she wondered in the beginnings of understanding what he was trying to say.

"Yes," he agreed, sounding mildly relieved that she understood. "This world taught me that changing means losing your friends. But now I know that doesn't have to be true. I have enough self to know that what I felt was foolish. Isn't it wonderful?"

"It's another good step, Cole," she agreed, taking his hand across the table.

He squeezed her fingers lightly and smiled widely. "I might like being human. What do you think I'll learn next?"

It was a few days before Cullen called Cirilla to his office. She knocked and when she heard his voice answer, she stepped in. "You wanted to see me?"

He nodded and straightened from leaning on his desk to rest his hands on his sword hilt like he always did. "No red lyrium, no allies, and soon Samson will have no armor. I hope."

"You hope?" she asked with a frown.

He nodded. "Dagna's started work on her red lyrium samples, but she needs more details on the armor," he explained. "We found orders in the mine. They mention Maddox. A name I did not expect to hear."

She had read the letters herself before sending them to Cullen and wondered if he had noticed the other detail. "Samson's letter said something about 'taking over as the vessel'."

Cullen grunted, letting her know he had seen it, too. "Perhaps it's a rank among the red templars. It could be a title from ancient Tevinter. Or it's some other role Corypheus has planned for Samson, and Maddox is part of it." He shrugged.

"Did Maddox serve with you and Samson in Kirkwall?" she wondered.

Cullen shook his head and paced away from his desk, casually strolling as if his limbs were stiff. "Maddox was a mage in Kirkwall's Circle. Samson smuggled letters between him and his sweetheart. Eventually Samson was caught... that's why he was cast out of the Order. Maddox was made Tranquil, and became a skilled craftsman of magical items. Samson must have... rescued him."

Cirilla gasped in horror. "I can't believe they made a man Tranquil over a few love letters."

Cullen scowled. "The official charge was 'corrupting the moral integrity of a templar'. Knight-Commander Meredith wielded the brand for far lesser offenses, believe me." His hands tightened around the hilt of his sword, and his eyes flicked almost imperceptibly toward the main hall and the library. It made her wonder what the charge might be for whatever Dorian and he got into in private. Dorian would likely have gotten the brand long ago if he had lived in Kirkwall. She shuddered at the idea, knowing that Cullen was likely having the same thoughts.

She cleared her throat, pushing the horrible vision of Dorian without the sparkle of mischief in his eyes and said, "Perhaps there's something left of the man Samson used to be."

Cullen growled. "Or he's shrewd enough to know an extraordinary resource. It seems Maddox built Samson's armor for him, and maintains it still. Tranquil in Kirkwall needed rare and expensive supplies for their enchantments... supplies we can trace. I can have our men kick down some doors, Ciri. Samson's armor might lead us right to his stronghold."


	15. Samson's Tale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dealing with Corypheus' General and stopping Corypheus in the Arbor Wilds

Cirilla was sitting on her hands as she waited for something to come of the trackers they had sent out after Samson. She was almost excited when Josephine told her that they had finally been able to get their hands on Blackwall and bring him to Skyhold. She settled herself into her throne as he was dragged before her. He refused to meet her eyes as Josephine read from her clipboard mechanically. "For judgement this day, Inquisitor, I must present Captain Thom Rainier, formerly known to us as Warden Blackwall. His crimes... well, you are aware of his crimes." She swallowed, looking at Blackwall regretfully. "It was no small expense to bring him here, but the decision of what to do with him is now yours."

Josephine cleared the hall to give them some privacy and Cirilla fought her own emotions as she looked down on the man that had been her friend. She cleared her throat. "Not even a word of thanks, I see," she said into the stretching silence.

"I don't know if I can thank you," he sighed. He finally lifted his head, setting his grey eyes on her and frowned. "What did you have to do to release me?"

She shrugged, sitting back in her chair and playing aloof. "Josephine called in a few favors. There are enough people out there who owe the Inquisition."

He scowled. "And what happens to the reputation the Ambassador has so carefully cultivated? The world will learn how you've used your influence. They'll know the Inquisition is corrupt."

She shook her head. "Once the world is back to normal, no one will even remember this."

"I'll remember," he growled. "I accepted my punishment, I was ready for all this to end. Why would you stop it? What becomes of me now?"

Cirilla had thought a lot about that question since finding out the truth. Blackwall was just another of her people who had a past. There was not a single person in the Inquisition who could claim they had come in clean of regrets. She looked him dead in the face and said, "You have your freedom."

She anticipated his protest. "It cannot be as simple as that."

She shook her head. "It isn't. You're free to atone as the man you are, not the traitor you thought you were or the Warden you pretended to be."

"The man I am?" he asked with a disbelieving chuckle. "I barely know him. But he... _I_ have a lot to make up for." He seemed to think on the judgement and his eyes closed in acceptance then he sighed. "If my future is mine, then I pledge it to the Inquisition. My sword is yours." When he glanced up at her smiling, he tipped his head. "If I'd said anything less, would an arrow from the rookery have snuffed me like a candle?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Take your post Thom Rainier."

"You're fidgety, Kadan," Bull pointed out as he set his chess piece down with a slam in front of her, jerking her from her insular thoughts.

She sighed and could feel his eye studying her as she tried to refocus on their game. She was losing miserably and she shifted her King into a vulnerable position, hoping he would just take it and get the game over with. They had done nothing productive in weeks and Corypheus felt like he was looming over her, seconds from finding a new way to achieve his goals that the Inquistion couldn't foresee. Bull grumbled and picked up her King to put it back in place, drawing another sigh from her. "Can't I just let you win?"

"Where's the fun in that? There's a difference between 'letting me win' and throwing the game because you can't focus," he scolded. "Again." She looked over the board, her thoughts swirling around in her head. She bit her bottom lip, the pieces blurring together. She reached a few times for a couple of different pieces and he sat back in his chair, making the wood creak beneath him as he crossed his arms to watch her patiently. "You are _really_ distracted." he pointed out.

She glanced up at him, her eyes narrowing with her fingers on one of her castles. "You think?" She spitefully moved the piece and sat back as well.

"What's bothering you, Kadan?" he asked softly, sitting forward again to make his own move, taking the piece she had given him. "I know it's not the normal bullshit. I've seen the normal bullshit. You're so tense, Stringbean could use you as a new bowstring."

"I'm late," she blurted, her voice a mumble.

"Ahhh," he growled, setting the piece down as her heart began to race with the very real concerns that had been flooding her head all morning. It had been nearly a week. She had been brushing it off, but each day that stretched before her felt like it was making it that much more of a truth. "You're shitting me."

"I am very much not 'shitting you'," she grumbled, reaching out with shaking fingers to take her turn.

He reached out and took her hand before she had the chance, grasping it lightly and drawing her eyes up to meet his. "Have you been to the healers, yet?"

She sighed and shook her head. "I'm really not prepared for the answer." She drew a ragged breath. "As much as I want to know, I'm terrified they're going to say yes. What then?"

"Then we figure it out," he said soothingly. He watched her for a moment and then stood, jostling the table and knocking the game into disarray. "Looks like you win... Come on."

"Where are we going?" she asked him.

"Somewhere we can get answers without setting tongues wagging," he explained, casually drawing her into his side. "I promise, no matter what, it'll be okay."

"You can't make that promise," she growled.

"I just did," he said with finality. She allowed him to lead her from the gardens, through the main hall and up to the library. "Hey, Vint!" he called out loudly when they reached the top of the stairs.

"Vishante Kaffas!" Dorian cursed, poking his head from his alcove with a frown. "Must you be so crass? This is a library after all." Then he spotted Cirilla and he smiled invitingly. "Ah, Ciri, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"We got something you need to have a look at. Not here, though," Bull said much more softly than he had called for Dorian.

Dorian looked between the two of them, crossing his arms and putting his nose in the air. "I'm only coming because you brought Cirilla with you."

Bull chuckled. "Like you don't appreciate watching me in the training ring as much as she does." He tipped his horn toward Cirilla with a wink. Dorian said a few more choice words in Tevene and allowed Bull to cart them both off. He led them down to the little cobwebbed library that they had spent the night in after the House of Repose had made themselves known. Dorian looked fascinated as he stepped in the room and started to peruse the books on the shelves. "This room is a gift for you."

Dorian stopped his quest to choose a book and looked at him with narrowed eyes, crossing his arms again. "And what pray-tell are you asking for in return?"

Cirilla stepped between them and caught Dorian's gaze. "I need you to check if I'm..." she couldn't finish. The word caught in her throat and Bull stepped in, laying his hands on her shoulders.

"We need to know if she's baking anything in her oven," Bull said gently, massaging her shoulders with reassuring strokes.

Dorian's eyes widened. "Fasta Vass, are you serious?"

"Could you please, just check?" Cirilla begged. "You're the only one I know who won't go running his mouth the first chance he gets."

"Of course," he agreed, soothingly. "Hold still." He pulled his sleeves away from his sparkling fingers and gave his hands a flourish, tendrils of blue magic swirled around his palms and he set them both on her abdomen, closing his eyes. It was a few moments before he withdrew his magic and then his hands. He smiled at her. "There is no 'bun', as it were."

She sagged against Bull whose hands tightened on her shoulders. "You're certain?" she asked, her voice shaky.

"I promise. No half Qunari spawn will be splitting you in two in the next nine months," Dorian said with a laugh.

"That's not how that works," Bull pointed out, the teasing in his voice evident.

Dorian flapped his hand and rolled his eyes, going back to perusing the books throughout the room. "I know that. I can also have something whipped up in no time that will be certain to prevent any more of these scares in the future..." he looked over his shoulder to lock eyes with Cirilla. "Should you wish."

Still slightly shaken, she nodded. "I think that's wise. Thank you, Dorian."

"Anything for you, Ciri." He winked and then shooed them so he could be alone with the books.

They stopped outside the room in the empty dining hall that never got used, and Bull turned her so his hands were still on her shoulders, but they were facing each other. "Are you good?"

Taking a deep breath, she nodded. "Relieved. I've been carrying that for a week. How were you so calm through that?"

He chuckled and picked up her hand to place it on his chest. "One of us needed a level head, and it clearly wasn't going to be you." His heart was hammering under her hand. "I improvised."

"I'm sorry," she said, laying her head against his chest and slipping her hand down so she could wrap her arms around his waist. "I shouldn't have fallen apart like that."

"Hey," he rumbled, his voice vibrating through her. "Not gonna lie, the timing would have been shitty, but everything isn't always perfect. We would have figured something out. It's you and me, right? Together?"

She huddled her face against his chest and then said something she had never said to another person without it being a lie. "I love you."

He grunted, a tension in his muscles loosening that she had never noticed until he let it go. "You going soft on me, Kadan?" When she didn't respond, to his teasing, he shifted her in his arms and lifted her chin so he could give her a tender look. "I love you, too." He drew her mouth to his, pressing his lips lightly to hers.

Cullen was excited, like she had never seen him. He rushed up to her desk, having let himself into her room, shaking a paper in his hand. "What have you found?" she asked, as he grinned in triumph.

He set the paper in front of her and said, "We have him, Ciri! We've found Samson's lair. My duties usually keep me here, but for Samson? I'll make an exception."

She looked him over, knowing that he was looking better than he had since they had met. Dorian was good for him, helping to remind him to relax and indulge life every now and then. Then she smiled. "I'm looking forward to fighting by your side, Commander."

"Likewise, Inquisitor," he said with relief. "We'll depart at your leave."

"Tomorrow morning. Be ready," she said. "I'll let the others know."

Traveling with Cullen meant traveling with a small army. He seemed to think that catching Samson required an entourage. Cirilla didn't begrudge him the backup, but when they approached to run down temple and she saw smoke rising in the distance, she ordered the army to stay back while she and her small group went to investigate.

The entrance to the courtyard looked eerily deserted. Ahead, the stone building loomed, the smoke rising from a few broken windows. Red flags with the templar insignia fluttered from the pillars on the front of the ruin. "This is it. The heart of Samson's command," Cullen growled.

"I don't see him anywhere," Cirilla said warily, drawing her daggers. "Or hear him."

"Nor I," Cullen agreed. "Maker, tell me he hasn't fled..."

They moved as a unit through the gates into the courtyard. Old camping equipment stood abandoned in the middle of the walled in space, fires long since burned out. The acrid smell of fresh fire floated on the air, coming from the smoke that wafted from the building. The sound of two projectiles being unleashed simultaneously from behind her had her spinning, and then following both Varric and Sera's aim. On the raised terraces above on either side, the arrow and bolt both took their own victim. So there were red templars left after all. The stealth attacks came from all around and Cirilla dropped as one of the quick former templars with razor sharp red lyrium spikes for arms spun in her direction. She rolled out of the way and Bull stepped in front of the thing to swing his ax. The creature was too fast, and it flickered out of the way, a string of bolts from Bianca following it. It went after Cullen next, the clang of it's weaponized arms banging into his shield echoing around the courtyard. He dug in his heels, glancing at Cirilla. She took his hint, beginning to hum an enchantment before drawing the shadows around herself and slipping in behind the flailing threat. She got in close and waited for an opening as it continued to swing at Cullen. When it went for a jab, it's back opened up and she jumped at her chance. Both of her daggers dug into it's flesh and she dragged them downwards before twisting and pulling them back out. It shrieked and fell dead. When Cullen nodded to her in thanks, his eyes widened and he leapt over the body of the creature to push her aside and block the sword that was coming down toward her head. From beneath his shield, he jabbed his own sword forward, stabbing up and into the red templar's heart.

They spread out, dealing with the remaining red templars in the courtyard before the stairs to the entrance of the building loomed before them. They regrouped and started to climb the stairs. Half way up, the doors exploded outwards, a rush of smoke billowing out before out of the darkness stepped one of the behemoths like they had faced at Haven and in the keep at Sahrnia. "Ah, shit, I hate these guys," Bull grumbled.

"Sera, Varric, spread out, keep it distracted. Bull..."

"Yeah I know..." he hefted his ax and backed down the stairs again to let the thing come down so they could fight it in a more open space. From both sides, Sera and Varric pelted the behemoth with arrows, distracting it.

"What should I do?" Cullen hissed, understanding he shouldn't draw attention to himself.

"Just stay back," she said. They had worked out a system that Bull absolutely hated.

She started to sing, the melody drawing on her bardic skills and the enchantment swirled around her, giving her temporarily heightened speed. She them stepped up near the behemoth and started to shout. It turned to her and roared in anger, lifting it's massive club like arm. It then dropped it's arm to the ground, aiming for her. She rolled out of the way and Bull stepped in to hack at it with his ax. There was not much brain left in the walking crystals, so it was easy enough to distract, evade, attack and repeat until the behemoth had no limbs left. Then it was easy enough to find where in the mess of crystals it's head might be and stick a blade through it.

"That was certainly a creative method of handling one of those," Cullen said after she removed her blade and wiped it down thoroughly. "I think a mage might have been more effective, though."

She chuckled. "Aww, you're just upset we didn't bring Dorian along," she teased quietly, making his cheeks flush.

"That has nothing to do with..." when she smirked at him, he stopped and rolled his eyes. "Right... let's get inside."

The temple was on fire, all right, the downstairs level completely engulfed in flames. "This place is already half destroyed," Cirilla mumbled, toeing some debris out of her path and drawing her cloth mask up around her face to block out the smoke that threatened to choke her.

"Samson must have ordered his templars to sack his headquarters so we couldn't," Cullen growled angrily.

"Sorry, Curly," Varric said. "Someone tipped off Samson you were coming."

"I think you're right," Cullen agreed. Then with a sigh he said, "Still, we've dealt Samson a blow."

"We should look around and see if we can salvage anything further in. It looks like they started the fire on the lower level. It hasn't reached all of the way up yet," Cirilla pointed out.

They pushed forward, guarding their lungs as best they could. Through a mezzanine they discovered a barred door that they managed to push open. The room was untouched by the fire, and Cirilla stepped in, pulling her mask off briefly to get a better look around. The walls were covered in massive shards of red lyrium, obscuring most of the furniture. The hum of the stuff was almost as bad as it had been in the quarry. Cullen cringed as they passed through the room, but he said nothing through his gritted teeth. If the song was irritating to her, it must have been unbearable for him. A soft cough drew her attention and she and Cullen both hurried to the man sitting on the floor. "Hello, Inquisitor," the man said, cringing. On his forehead, the Tranquil brand stood out in contract to his pale skin. He clutched his stomach.

"You know me?" she asked, tipping her head.

"It's Maddox," Cullen said, kneeling. "Samson's Tranquil. Something's wrong. I'll send for the healers..."

Maddox stopped him in a droll and unfeeling voice. "That would be a waste, Knight-Captain Cullen. I drank my entire supply of blightcap essence. It won't be long now."

"We only wanted to ask you questions, Maddox," Cirilla sighed sadly. Blightcap was an agonizing way to go.

"Yes. That is what I could not allow. I destroyed the camp with fire. We all agreed it was best. Our deaths ensured Samson had the time to escape."

"You threw your lives away? For _Samson_? Why?" Cullen asked in disbelief.

"Samson saved me even before he needed me. He gave me purpose again. I... wanted to help..." soon after his last words slipped out, Maddox's head fell forward.

Cullen lowered his own head, shaking it in saddened disapproval before sighing and standing from his crouch. "We should check the camp. Maddox may have missed something." As the others spread out to hunt, Cirilla moved up beside Cullen and rested her hands on his forearm. He glanced around at the room and sighed again. "A dismal place to die. It can't have been much of a place to live, either, under Samson's command."

"What else do you remember about Samson? The man he used to be?" she asked quietly.

"Does it matter?" he asked angrily. " 'He used to be kind' only carries so far. Yet Maddox died to help him escape. Samson does command loyalty."

She watched him breaking down the room as she spoke. "Is there anything in the camp that could help? Or point us to Samson?"

"It's hard to tell. All I see is smoke and ash." Then he finally looked at her and smiled. "If this is Samson's idea of remaking the world, I prefer yours."

She patted his arm and then removed her hand. "We can't leave Maddox here. He should be properly laid to rest."

Cullen nodded. "I'll have someone take care of it. If even Samson did his best for Maddox, we can do no less."

Varric brought her a pile of empty bottles. She looked them over and gasped. "Lyrium bottles? Licked clean."

Varric nodded gravely. "Drinking it, wearing it, growing it... You can't say Samson isn't committed."

"How much red lyrium is Samson taking?" Cullen gasped as well. "His resistance must be extraordinary."

Varric dropped the bottles and they continued to look around the lyrium infested room. Cullen sifted through some papers on a table and then grunted. "Samson left a message. For me."

"What does it say?" Cirilla asked, moving up beside him as he pulled the parchment from beneath others.

Cullen's eyes skimmed the paper and he sneered, picking out his favorite phrases. "Drink enough lyrium, and its song reveals the truth. The Chantry used us. You're fighting the wrong battle. Corypheus chose me as his general, and his vessel of power... and other such nonsense. Does he think I'll understand? What does he know?" he balled up the paper and tossed it down.

Finding nothing in Samson's room, they looked around a smaller adjoining room."This must have been Maddox's room," Cirilla guessed, recognizing some tools that she was used to seeing in Dagna's work space.

"The fire couldn't destroy these entirely. Whatever they are," Cullen said picking up one of the tools.

"It looks like tools, and part of a forge," she pointed out.

"Tranquil often design their own tools. Dagna should be able to make sense of them," Cullen agreed, gathering the tools. "If Maddox used these to make Samson's armor, she could use them to unmake it. We have him."

Cullen sent a runner ahead with the tools for Dagna. The day after they returned to Skyhold when she went to visit him, he gave her a report. "The red lyrium deposits are being destroyed, and we've cut the red templars down to the core. It's a pity Maddox thought his sacrifice was the only answer. But that leaves Samson with a severely curtailed army, and enchanted armor he can't maintain. You did it."

Cirilla smiled at him and crossed her arms. "We both fought to make this happen. Don't sell yourself short," she urged.

"Well, I... thank you," he smiled as well. "But my work's not done yet. We're getting recruits by the hour. There's more than a few ex-templars among them. We've struck a blow and given people hope. This is a true victory."

Cirilla had no chance to respond when Cullen's door burst open. "Inquisitor, I finished it!" Dagna had clearly been drinking coffee recently. "Are you talking? Sorry. Have it anyhow."

She shoved something toward Cirilla and she had no choice but to take it or have it clatter to the floor. "You mean, this rune?" Cirilla asked, making sure that was what she was holding. It glowed red and she prayed it wasn't some sort of bomb.

"It's not just _any_ rune. I made it with red lyrium and what's left of poor Maddox's tools. The rune acts on the median fissures of lyrium to..." Dagna sighed as Cirilla looked at her blankly. "It'll destroy Samson's armor. He'll be powerless."

Cirilla laughed and pocketed the rune. "We should render our enemies powerless at a stroke more often."

"Maddox covered Samson's tracks thoroughly," Cullen said. "But wherever Samson's retreated, we'll find him. Your army stands ready, Inquisitor. For Samson, for Corypheus, for whatever you command."

She patted the rune in her pocket and left his office with excitement. She sought Bull who was in the training ring with Krem. She leaned on the rail to watch as Krem fell on his ass to avoid a feint from Bull. After lecturing him on his mistake, Bull spotted her and shooed Krem, calling in Grim to stand in for him.

"Hey, you. I've been itching for some hand to hand, but none of these assholes like being tossed around like you do. Feel up to it?" he asked teasingly.

"I just got some really good news, so I'm up for just about anything," she purred in response.

"Hmm," he rumbled. "I'll keep that in mind for later. But for now..." he reached over the fence and picked her up off the ground to set her back down inside the training ring. "I could use a real workout."

She shoved him playfully. "Don't manhandle me in front of the Chargers, you ass."

"Keep up with that mouth, and I might need to bring out the crop again," he growled.

They moved to the center of the ring and he removed his harness and his leg brace. He was intentionally leaving his trick knee open for her to exploit, so she put that at the very end of the list of things to go for first. It was an obvious trap. In a normal sparring match, she would use open hands, but for Bull, she curled her hands into fists and widened her stance. Bull was big, but she knew from experience, he was nowhere near being slow. They began to circle each other as the Chargers, a few Inquisition soldiers and some others gathered around to watch. She allowed him to come at her first, sidestepping his charge. He spun and immediately went for her again. This time as she sidestepped, she grabbed for his horn on his blind side and gave a sharp tug. It pulled him off balance and he grunted as she danced out of the way of his reaching arm. They reset, circling each other again. Bull pumped his arms, getting himself riled up. He thought she was going to make him come to her again, but this time, as he was planning his charge, she suddenly charged him. She caught him off guard as he grabbed for her, and she reached up and took hold of his forearm, using her momentum to pull him down, she leapt and swung her legs up just high enough to wrap around his waist instead of his neck where he assumed she would go for. He twisted and as he grabbed for her arm and got hold of her wrist, she used her other arm to get his horn again on his blind side. When he tugged her off of him, he ended up tugging his own head around sharply. When he growled and let go, she dropped to the ground behind him and then went for the knee he had left exposed. She kicked out, only putting half the force she could behind it because she didn't want to hurt him, just bring him down. His leg buckled and he dropped to his knee, spinning to grab hold of her even as he fell. He yanked her by the wrist, tripping her with his extended leg as he dragged her from behind him. As she swung out in front of him, he wrenched her arm at twisted it behind her then pulled down. They were both on their knees. Before he could pin her, she dropped over their arms onto her ass, putting their arms in front of her again. Then she drew her legs back, tucking them against her chest, so when he wrapped his other arm around her to pin her to his chest, he could not grip her as tightly as he intended. She kicked out one of her legs, dislodging his grip from her wrist, Then she slipped both arms between her knees and her chest so she could keep him from pinning her arms down. Next, she levered her head forward and then tightening her neck muscles, she snapped her head back, catching him on the chin. His grip loosened and she threw her arms up and broke his one armed hold on her so she could roll free. He got up from the ground, favoring his bad knee only slightly and growled at her. "You fight dirty!" he said with excitement.

She nodded with a primal grin on her face, her heart racing. After a moment, he charged her again. Instead of sidestepping, she dropped and rolled toward him, forcing him to alter his charge or be tripped. She could feel him learning with every charge. Soon she would run out of feints that he wouldn't see coming. She needed to end this quickly. When he came at her again, she stood her ground and blocked his swing with a forearm. The impact jarred her, but she followed with her own fist, swinging upwards. She slapped her hand off course and then grabbed her to spin her around so he could pin her to his chest. He was too tall for her to elbow him successfully in his solar plexus, so she lifted her foot and kicked back into his knee again. It brought him down, but he refused to let her go, grunting into her ear as his other knee hit the ground. She pushed her rear into his chest and tried to pry his arm loose to gain some leverage to free herself. "Oh, yeah," he growled. "Back that ass into me," he taunted.

She growled her own frustration and then had an idea. She leaned herself toward his bad knee and then went limp, all of her weight pressing the knee into the dirt. He shifted to relieve the pressure and she felt his arm loosen just enough. She dropped down, slipping from his grasp and then dug her heels into the dirt and pushed back into him. The dirt gave under her heel as he allowed her to push him over, thinking he could get a hold of her again once she was on top of him. Instead, she pivoted on the heel that still had purchase and rolled away. "This is starting to get embarrassing for you," she teased, getting to her feet as he rolled onto his stomach, pushing up off the ground as well, definitely favoring his knee now.

"I like a challenge," he shrugged. With one final charge, he ran at her and she bent at the waist, bracing herself. Her shoulder met his solar plexus, but he continued through the pain. He wrapped his arms around her waist and hoisted her off the ground, flipping her upside down, she panicked for a second before realizing she could use this. She let her legs dangle for a moment then she kicked out swinging them as far up and back as she could. The unexpected thrust threw him off balance because he was already winded from the blow to his gut. He tried to catch himself but could manage no more than cradling her head as they crashed to the ground. His breath was labored as he tried to catch it after the impact. She scrambled off him as he started to chuckle. "Okay, okay. You win, Kadan. You win." he slapped his palm on the ground three times.

She moved to stand over him, one foot on either side of his chest. "Do I get a prize?" she asked snarkily.

He laughed again, then he lifted his hands and smacked them into the backs of her knees. She collapsed onto his chest, straddling him. "I'm sure I could think of a way to reward you." His hands squeezed her rear and she felt her cheeks flush.

"Half of Skyhold is watching," she reminded him.

"Yeah, you knocked the breath out of me. It's only fair if I return the favor." He drew her down and planted a breath stealing kiss on her lips then as he released her, slapped her ass and laughed as he sat up. "Go get cleaned up. It's almost dinner time. You helped me work up an appetite."

After her bath, she left her quarters feeling refreshed. The sun was just starting to go down, and she started toward the exit to meet Bull for dinner. "There you are! I've been looking all over for you," Varric said, hailing her. "You're just in time. We almost had to start without you."

"We couldn't have that, could we," she agreed as he waved her to follow. It seemed he was going where she had been headed anyhow.

When they entered Herald's Rest, it had been cleared out. Two large tables had been pushed end to end and a smattering of chairs were arranged around them. "I found her, Ruffles! Deal her in!" Varric called.

"I do hope I recall the rules. It's been ages since I've played a game of Wicked Grace," Josephine said as she primly shuffled a deck of cards and started to pass them out. Nearly everyone had shown up, and Cirilla found herself staring with an open mouth.

"Grab a seat." Varric nudged her toward a corner chair between Cassandra and Josephine. "We're ready to start." He took his own seat across from her between Dorian and Cullen.

"We playing cards or what?" Bull demanded, picking up his drink. He had a pile of coins already set in front of him on his end of the table, which he had all to himself, that wobbled when he slammed his mug down.

"Are three drakes better than a pair of swords? I can never remember," Cassandra sighed, frowning at her hand.

"Seeker, remember how I said, 'Don't show anyone your hand'? That rule includes announcing it to the table," Varric said with a chuckle.

"There's a crown on his head, but a sword, too. His head didn't want either," Cole mused from Josephine's other side.

"Don't talk to the face cards, kid," Varric chuckled.

"You seem to have enough people. I have a thousand things to do," Cullen grumbled.

"Losing money can be both relaxing and habit forming. Give it a try," Dorian urged with a wink that turned Cullen's cheeks red.

"Curly, if any man in history ever needed a hobby, it's you," Varric said, nudging his arm.

"Dealer starts," Josie announced. "Ooh... I... Believe... I'll start at... three coppers! Do you think that's too daring? Maybe I'll make it one... No! Boldness! Three it is!"

"Seriously?" Bull growled, sitting forward. The clink of coins from his toppling pile made her snicker. "Who starts at three coppers? Silver, or go home."

"Sounds good. I'm in," Blackwall agreed tossing a coin into the center of the table. He seemed willing to grab his new life and make things right. That he had shown up to the group card game spoke volumes.

"Bolder the better, right?" Dorian purred, rolling a coin over his knuckles and making it clink across his rings. "I'm in."

"Me, too. Well? Are you in?" Varric looked at her and she grinned mischievously. What he didn't know was that Wicked Grace was her game.

"I'm in, and raising another silver," she fished in her coin purse and tossed the bet on the table.

"You haven't even looked at your cards!" Cullen protested.

"Our illustrious leader is betting we're bluffing," Varric said with another chuckle.

"You _are_ bluffing," Blackwall pointed out.

The evening stretched long, round after round humbling Cirilla as she continuously lost to Josephine, right along with the rest of the table. The luck and skill of the ambassador did not hinder the mood though as everyone laughed and joked, telling stories and drinking. "I think we need another round of drinks!" Cirilla announced after tossing her cards down and sliding her coin to Josephine. A snuffling under the table had her checking on Sera yet again who had been under there the entire time, clamped to Bull's leg and snoring. He had admitted with a shrug to having shared his Maraas-lok with her before Cirilla had arrived.

"I'll get them. Don't start without me!" Cullen said, getting up to grab the drinks.

A collective groan sounded around the table a few hours later as Josephine laid her cards out before her. "And the dealer takes everything! I win again."

"Deal again. I've figured out your tells, Lady Ambassador," Cullen challenged.

"Commander! Everyone knows a lady has no tells," Josephine said primly.

"Then lets see if your good fortune lasts one more hand," he said.

"I want another chance to win my dignity back. Deal me in," Cirilla agreed, dropping her head to the table, knowing she was going to regret it.

Josie dealt them each five cards and Cirilla shuffled her hand around. The round lasted for a few more rounds of drinks, the Angel of Death card elusive. In that time, Cullen made the poor decision of upping the stakes.

He sat stiff in his chair, all eyes on him and smirking after all the cards were down and Josephine had demanded he pay up. Cirilla couldn't help her trailing eyes as Cullen flushed all of the way down from his cheeks to his navel. "Don't say a word, dwarf," he growled as Varric opened his mouth.

After a snicker, Varric couldn't help himself. "I tried to warn you, Curly."

"Never bet against an Antivan, Commander," Josephine warned far too late.

"I'm leaving," Cassandra said, throwing her arms up in the air, flustered. "I don't want to witness our Commander's walk of shame back to the barracks."

"Well, I do!" Dorian said with a hungry smirk.

"It comes off. I didn't know it came off..." Cole mused.

Cirilla shook her head as everyone started to clear off. She stood and respectfully turned away so Cullen could make his dash to escape. "Anaan!" Bull yelled behind her as Cullen fled.

"I'm glad you decided to join us tonight," Varric said, moving to stand at her side by the fire. "It's too easy to mistake you for the Inquisitor."

"You're mistaking me for me? How much did you have to drink?" she teased.

He waved her off. "It's easy to forget you're not just an icon or symbol, like those statues of Andraste holding bowls of fire. At least it is for me. You up for another game when this is all over, Ribbons?"

"I wouldn't miss it," she agreed with a smile and a pat to his shoulder.

"Good! It'll take me a while to talk Cullen into it. Maybe I'll work the 'revenge' angle," he waved goodnight, leaving her with Bull and the still snoring Sera.

When Bull stood from the table and tugged on his leg, Sera startled. "Whozat? Did I win?"

He chuckled and extricated his leg. "No such luck, Stringbean. Come on. Let's get you to bed." He knelt and gathered her up. Once he had a hold of her, he tipped his head for Cirilla to follow and he headed up to Sera's room to drop her on her couch before continuing to his room above the tavern. He seldom slept there anymore, preferring to sleep beside her in her bed. He sat on the edge of his bed and patted the space beside him. "Feel like spending the night here?"

"There isn't much night left," she said with a yawn dropping beside him.

He chuckled. "All the more reason to not have to walk alllll the way back to your quarters," he reasoned. He nudged her onto her side and she shuffled to the opposite side of the bed so when he kicked his feet up, he fit easily on his back beside her. He toed his boots off and she rolled to huddle against his side. "Good night, Kadan."

Two mornings later, Cirilla called a meeting in the war room. She was done waiting. She needed to know what Corypheus was up to. As soon as they were all gathered, she placed her hands flat on the war table and glanced between her advisers. "It's time to plan our next attack. What's the state of the Inquisition?"

Josephine spoke first. "Our alliance with Orlais holds. For the present. They'll send aid on request."

"And," Cullen added. "Your actions at Adamant denied Corypheus his army of pet demons. With Orlais' support, our numbers match his. Corypheus' followers must be panicking."

"My agents agree," Leliana nodded. "Our victories have shaken his disciples."

Cirilla nodded with pride. "We've beaten their 'god' twice over. Corypheus must be livid. Where is he now?"

"After you dealt with the duchess, Corypheus uprooted his major strongholds. He's moving south to the Arbor Wilds. His army clearly wasn't prepared to flee. Our victories have them on the defensive," Cullen reported.

"They've terrorized Thedas long enough. We end them now," Cirilla said, pounding her fist into her opposite palm. "If Corypheus is hiding in the Arbor Wilds, that's where we'll go."

"But what _is_ Corypheus doing in such a remote area?" Josephine asked tentatively.

"His people have been ransacking elven ruins since Haven. We believe he seeks more," Leliana explained. "What he hopes to find, however... continues to elude us."

With an incredible sense for dramatic timing, the door to the war room opened and Morrigan strolled in casually. "Which should surprise no one. Fortunately, I can assist."

Cirilla crossed her arms. "You have my attention, Lady Morrigan."

Morrigan turned her golden gaze on Cirilla. "What Corypehus seeks in those forgotten woods is as ancient as it is dangerous."

"Which is?" Cirilla urged.

Morrigan hesitated. " 'Tis best... if I show you." She turned and left the war room, beckoning Cirilla to follow. With a shrug to the others, Cirilla went after Morrigan.

Morrigan led her through the gardens to one of the small storage rooms around the perimeter. Inside, was a tall object covered in a large canvas. Morrigan pulled the canvas down and revealed a large mirror It was squared off at the bottom and curved at the top with decorative golden bars cascading down the sides from midway up, following the same curvature. The glass was strange, not reflecting anything around it, but seemingly projecting an image from behind it. The glass rippled slowly as if made of water.

"This is an eluvian," Morrigan explained, touching her palm to the mirror's edge. "An elven artifact, from a time long before their empire was lost to human greed. I restored this one at great cost, but another lies within the Arbor Wilds. _That_ is what Corypheus seeks."

Cirilla admired the mirror. "It's... beautiful, in it's way," she said softly.

"I found legends of an elven temple within the Arbor Wilds, untouched. It proved too dangerous to approach, and thus I turned elsewhere to find my prize. If Corypehus has turned southward, he could succeed where I failed. The eluvian would be his."

"What does it do?" Cirilla wondered.

Morrigan lifted her arms, magic pouring from her and the mirror sprang to life, it's image disappearing to turn into a glowing blue gateway. "A more appropriate question would be 'where does it lead'?" Morrigan stepped through the mirror and disappeared, leaving Cirilla to follow. Gathering herself, she braced and stepped through the mirror. She ended up in a foggy landscape filled with hundreds of copies of the mirror as far as the eye could see, interrupted by desolate and dead plant life. The hairs on her arms stood at attention as she looked around, the air itself feeling charged. When Morrigan spoke, her voice echoed impossibly. "If this place once had a name, it has long been lost. I call it the Crossroads, a place where all eluvians join... wherever they might be."

"Is this place dangerous?" Cirilla asked hugging herself. "It feels..."

"Unnatural, yes. We are, however, in no immediate peril," Morrigan assured her. "The ancient elves left no roads, only ruins hidden in far-flung corners. This is how they traveled between them. As you can see, most of the mirrors are dark... broken, corrupted, or unusable. As for the rest... a few can be opened from this side. But only a few."

Cirilla frowned. "What do you mean, 'a few can be opened from this side'?"

"Some of the eluvians have been left unlocked, like doors accidentally left ajar. All others are closed. They can be opened only from beyond," Morrigan explained.

"Opened how?" Cirilla asked.

"With a key," Morrigan said.

"I suppose you have such a key," Cirilla guessed.

Morrigan nodded slightly. "The key can be may things. Each eluvian is different. I have knowledge as well as power. Often that is enough."

Cirilla glanced around again. "This is all very interesting, but why show it to me?"

"This... is not the Fade, but it is close," Morrigan eluded. "Someone with enough power could tear down the ancient barriers..."

"And enter the Fade in the flesh. Like Corypheus wanted to do with the Anchor," Cirilla finished with realization.

Morrigan nodded. "He learned of the eluvian in the Arbor Wilds, as I did. He marshals the last of his forces to reach it." Morrigan started back toward her mirror. "You have made Corypheus desperate, Inquisitor. We must work together to stop him, and soon."

They made their way back through and Cirilla felt fear and excitement dancing around in her gut. They could be days from confronting Corypheus again. She and Morrigan made their way back to the war room and she explained what she had seen. Leliana spoke first with a slight frown wrinkling her forehead. "With an eluvian, Corypheus could cross into the Fade in the flesh?"

"Indeed," Morrigan said with a nod. "The Inquisitor can attest that these artifacts still work if one knows how to use them."

"What happens when Corypheus enters the Fade?" Cullen wondered.

Cirilla had often wondered that herself. How was him getting into the Fade a key to godhood? Morrigan chuckled. "Why, he will gain his heart's desire, and take the power of a god. Or... and this is more likely... the lunatic will unleash forces that tear the world apart."

Cirilla shook her head. "I won't allow it. I can't."

"Indeed. Should Corypeheus succeed, do not doubt you would be first to feel his holy wrath," Morrigan pointed out.

"Pardon me,but..." Josephine said politely. "does this mean everything's lost unless we get to the eluvian before him?"

The room went quiet as everyone exchanged nervous glances. Cullen broke the silence first. "Corypheus has a head start, no matter how quickly our army moves."

"We should gather our allies before we march," Josephine suggested.

"Can we wait for them?" Leliana said with a small shake of her head. "We should send our spies ahead to the Arbor Wilds."

Cullen scoffed. "Without support from the soldiers? You'd lose half of them!"

Cirilla could feel the room spiraling into an old habit of bickering that it had been months since she had heard. Josephine raised her voice over Cullen's. "Then what _should_ we do?"

"For starters," Cirilla said calmly, her raised hand demanding attention. "We don't let Corypheus worry us to death. Imagine how embarrassing that would be." After a few halfhearted snickers from the others, she smiled and continued. "Josephine, have our allies send scouts to meet us in the Wilds. Leliana, your fastest agents will join them. Together, we'll have enough spies to slow down Corypheus' army until Cullen's soldiers arrive."

A small chuckle from Morrigan drew a scowl to her face as she glanced at her, wondering why she was so amused. Morrigan cleared her throat and said, "Such confidence, but the Arbor Wilds are not so kind to visitors. Old elven magic lingers in those woods."

"We'd be remiss not to take advantage of your knowledge, Lady Morrigan. Please, lend us your expertise," Josie said with a smile.

Morrigan raised a brow, but then smirked. " 'Tis why I came here, although it is good to see its value recognized."

"Any further instructions, Inquisitor?" Cullen asked.

Cirilla looked between her advisers and smiled. They had all come so far. She had wanted to hate her circumstances when the Inquisition had begun, but she had grown to adore all of the people in her life. "The Inquisition began as a handful of soldiers. Thanks to you, we're now a force that will topple a self-proclaimed god. I could ask for no final council, no better guidance."

Cullen returned her affectionate smile. "I speak for all of us when I answer... we could ask for no finer cause."

Leliana nodded. "We'll hound Corypheus in the Wilds before he can find the temple or this 'eluvian'."

With the war council dismissed, her advisers were pouring over the map, setting things in motion. Cirilla needed to get her people ready. Her usual road crew as well as the rest of her inner circle would be needed for this endeavor.

They rode out a few days after the army, knowing the soldiers would need more time to get there than her small group. It seemed they arrived only a day after the army. The forward camp had been established and there was a general buzz in the woods that spoke of fighting among the trees. The atmosphere was charged and the mark felt on edge, her fingers tingling as one of the captains approached her with a report. "The red templars fall beneath our blades, Your Worship. Commander Cullen says they're nearly finished. Our scouts saw Corypheus traveling toward an elven ruin to the north. We can clear you a path through his armies."

Cirilla smirked. "So all you have to do is fend off Corypheus' worst zealots until I've returned."

The captain crossed her closed fist over her chest in a salute. "We shall not flinch, Your Worship! Not a one of us. Andraste guide you, Inquisitor."

With her path laid before her, Cirilla turned to her people who had already begun spreading out through the camp to help, and Morrigan approached her with a sardonic grin. "I wonder... is it Andraste your soldiers invoke during battle, or does a more immediate name come to their lips?"

Cirilla flinched. "They show me respect, Morrigan. No one mistakes me for the Maker."

"True," Morrigan shrugged. "You are far more likely to come to their aid than a Chantry fable... but I digress." She looked out among the trees. "If your scouts report accurately, I believe these ruins to be the Temple of Mythal."

"Which is?" Cirilla asked, waving over Varric, Sera, and Bull so they could get moving.

"A place of worship out of elven legends. If Corypheus seeks it, then the eluvian he covets lies within." As Morrigan finished her explanation, several explosions rocked the woods nearby, the plumes of smoke and balls of fire visible from where they stood. "Let us hope we reach this temple _before_ the entire forest is reduced to ash."

Cirilla nodded her agreement and started to make her way through camp toward an exit through the dense trees that would lead them toward their destination. The Arbor Wilds reminded Cirilla of the endlessly green woods of the Emerald Graves, though aside from the Inquisition camp, there was no sign of human architecture anywhere in sight. The Graves had been spotted with Orlesian chateaus and encampments. Their way out of the camp was an enormous hollowed out log that an army could have marched through easily ten men abreast. Moss and weeds clung to the inner walls as the forest grew around the marvel. She could see clear to the other end as it dipped downwards to spill them onto the trail that would take them to Corypheus. "Now that's a view," Bull mused excitedly. "Gets your blood going."

"Come on!" Sera said, barreling into the darkened space. "Let's go plug some arseholes!"

Varric sighed as he followed after her. "One last push, and we can lick our wounds. I wonder if Corypheus will show."

"Do you sense the magic crackling?" Morrigan asked her softly, glancing down at the agitated Anchor. Cirilla balled her fist around the mark and nodded slowly. Something more powerful than the red templars stirs."

That was not a comforting thought as the dark beauty of the woods suddenly turned sinister with Morrigan's words. On the other side of the log, the fighting was already happening, even that close to camp. Sera's loud shouts as she darted onto the trail scattered a flock of beautifully colored birds, the likes of which Cirilla had never seen. Their feathers were a bright blue tipped and accented with pinks and yellows. She watched them fly off as she drew her daggers and then focused on the enemy. Red templars were engaged with Orlesian soldiers along the road.

There was no time to really stop and take in the scenery as they fought through the battle along the road. Finally, they met a river and a reprieve in soldiers. Elves had once lived in these woods, but the ruins dotting the landscape were broken down and fully overgrown, indicating that it had been some time since anyone had occupied the Wilds. Not much further along they met a massive waterfall that flanked more shattered stone walls that seemed to have once been a bridge. There were red templars crawling all over the structure and wading through the shallow waters of the river.

Cirilla pulled the shadows around her and quietly made her way onto the broken bridge to stab the foot soldier in his neck before they fully alerted their presence to the larger enemies below. Sera and Varric drew the attention from her with a volley of bolts and arrows while Morrigan threw physical magic at the water, splashing it upwards to blind the templars. Cirilla, still stealthed, dropped down off the bridge and began to slip in and out of the corrupted warriors and slit their throats, careful to not touch any of the ones with spikes of red lyrium jutting from their flesh. Bull waded into the water as well, swinging his ax at the general who was so far gone that his body had twisted and mutated so he was as large as Bull himself. Cirilla danced out of the way as a few arrows started to splash into the water beside her. She glanced up and saw that across the water on another stretch of ruined bridge, there was a group of archers trying desperately to shoot far enough to hit them. "Sera!" she called, pointing out the archers.

Sera giggled and pulled a flask from her belt. She smashed it against her chest and the alchemy took effect, shards of solid ice springing up around her to protect her from being hit as she moved in closer to get shots off on the men. Cirilla darted up behind her, taking advantage of the ice armor while singing an enchantment that would speed her up. Then she darted out around Sera and charged for the incline onto the high ground. At closer inspection, these were no red templars. They were Wardens. When she got closer, they resorted to their magic, dropping the bows. She dodged out of a glyph that appeared beneath her feet and rolled forward, stabbing upwards, under the small plate of silverite that protected the mage's chest.

A bolt to the face took out the next one in line, and Cirilla jumped the corpse to charge the final Warden. He attempted to cast, but she sliced at his hands, breaking up the gestures and interrupting the spell. Then she kicked out, connecting to kneecap and dropping him so she could slice his throat. With all the enemies in the immediate area down, she wiped her blades and grumbled. "Those were Grey Wardens. They must be the last of those enslaved at Adamant."

Bull approached her as she scrambled off the raised ruins, and brushed off some blood she had on her cheek to be sure it wasn't hers. "That or you got another set of Wardens pissed at you somehow."

She didn't even want to think about that. They pressed forward through more woods and met the river again where some of Leliana's people were fighting more red templars. They skirted the battle as best they could, taking out a few stragglers and following the trail. Around a bend, Morrigan hissed. "There, ahead. An entire camp of red templars."

"Watch yourself," Bull growled. "Archers on the wall."

Cirilla pulled a set of throwing knives from her belt and flung them in quick succession to take out the archers with a surprise attack. The falling bodies alerted the rest of the camp and the templars came from their tents to attack them. The fight went well until out of the shadows, lightning fast creatures darted into the fray and began to slash at both them and the templars with wicked sharp blades. Cirilla nearly tasted the bite of one of the blades, backpedaling as the golden armored 'thing' flashed by her, slicing for her chest. When it dipped back into the shadows, disappearing from sight, a bolt flew by her and a meaty thunk broke the illusion, dropping the creature to the ground. Cirilla frowned down at the prone figure and then dipped to slice it's throat open just in case the bolt hadn't done the job. When she looked down at her chest, the small plate of armor that bore the Inquisition symbol that protected her chest had a deep gash. She winced. It was made from dawnstone. The pinkish stone was one of the strongest metals you could craft with and the dagger had sliced through it like it was silk. She had no time to react as more of the strange looking, elves she noted, emerged from the shadows.

"Katara bas! They fight like a hurricane!" Bull shouted as one of them got behind him and almost cut his flesh like they had her breastplate. He spun out of the way as quickly as he could, avoiding the dagger and swung his ax downwards as the elf tried to disappear again.

Finally, Morrigan had enough of the darting elves and threw her arms into the air. The spell she brought down, paralyzed the attackers and broke their illusions, allowing for Varric and Sera to pick them off one by one. "Were we just attacked by elves?" Cirilla gasped as she rushed over to Bull who was applying pressure to a wound in his upper arm. She pulled a bandage laced with elfroot from her pouch that Stitches had given her. It was a new recipe he was trying that he guaranteed would heal even wounds that should need sutures. Bull hissed as she applied it, but smiled thankfully none the less.

"Uh-huh," Varric said in regards to her dazed question. He knelt beside one of the bodies, rolling it over to get a better look. "But they don't look like any elves I've ever seen."

"Perhaps these creatures are the reason few return from the Arbor Wilds," Morrigan suggested.

The rest of the path was littered with both the strange elves, and more red templars fighting the Inquisition and it's allies. She watched a group of her mages take down two of the red lyrium behemoths simultaneously and silently conceded Cullen's point from Samson's hideout. It would have been easier if they'd had a mage. Following the river, they finally made it to a wide open stretch of broken down civilization. The entrance to the temple was just as overgrown as the rest of the ruins spattered around the landscape, but it was much better kept. It's walls still stood, the gigantic statues of harts and wolves merely moss covered instead of cracked and crumbling.

They pushed forward after helping Cullen and his unit take care of the few red templars that had made it this far. As they passed beneath a man-made stone tunnel, sound echoed strangely through the stretch of corridor. Cirilla noted that the supportive arches that they were walking under were shaped exactly like Morrigan's eluvian. As they hit the middle of the tunnel, Cirilla could see out the other side to where a massive fortress stood tall across a wide yet shallow valley where the river continued around the structure. "There. That must be the Temple of Mythal."

"I hear fighting ahead," Morrigan warned.

On the terrace where they stepped back into the sun shining through the old growth trees, Cirilla knelt down, signaling the others to drop. All around their feet were the bodies of more of the elves, some Grey Wardens and red templars as well. Through the balusters of the rail in front of her she looked down upon the scene playing out. A handful of the elves stood on a bridge that stretched golden tiles across the ravine. The one at the forefront shouted across an invisible line separating him and his people from Corypheus and his own group of red templars. Samson stood at Corypheus' side as the ancient magister held one of the elves in his palm by the face, clearly dead. The single elf's eyes flicked from behind his hood to the two statues that stood like pillars at the end of the bridge in front of him, humming with magic that called to her mark, then shouted. "Na melana sur, banallen!"

"They still think to fight us, Master," Samson said with a grin in his tone that she could not see on his face since he was glaring at the elves ahead and not behind him where she and the others knelt silently.

Corypheus casually tossed the elf corpse toward the rest of them. Their bows went up and the one at the front readied a staff as Corypheus approached, his deep throaty voice sounding terribly wrong in the peaceful quiet of the woods around them. "These are but remnants. They will not keep us from the Well of Sorrows."

"Well of Sorrows?" Cirilla hissed, turning her head to Morrigan who knelt beside her. The witch shrugged and shook her head, looking puzzled.

Magic began to crackle as Corypheus approached the statues. He paused and looked at them but seemed unphased as he pressed forward. Veins of glowing magic swirled along the cracks in the stone. "Be honored! Witness death at the hands of a new god!"

Corypheus stepped across the invisible line in the sand and the statues reacted. Thick tendrils of magic surged st him from both sides. His body glowed with the white hot magic and he growled in anger. Swatting at the magic as if it were an annoyance, Corypheus continued forward, grabbing the elven mage by his face and lifting him upwards to dangle over his head. The magic intensified, consuming both Corypehus and the elf. Cirilla watched with her mouth agape as Corypheus melted down to the bone and then the magic over flowed, bursting outward and exploding the statues in a blast of bright light. She shielded her eyes and when she looked back, there was nothing left but two scorch marks where the statues had once stood and the corpses of the rest of the elves, so close to the magic that the blow back had killed them. Samson and his red templars were already halfway across the bridge.

Cirilla nudged the others and vaulted the rail to drop down near the bridge. Bodies littered the ground as they did above and she carefully stepped over them, not daring to believe what she had just witnessed. When Samson reached the doors into the temple, Cirilla paused, hearing a wet gurgle coming from behind her. One of the Warden bodies she had stepped over was now sitting up on it's knees, twitching and convulsing as a horrible black substance leaked from its throat. As they approached, warily, the convulsing threw the head and body back and the ichor began to fountain upwards as a gut wrenching, unnatural wail gurgled forth form the same throat. The ichor covered the corpse, turning it a tar black and then it slouched forward. "It cannot be," Morrigan gasped as the ichor took on a terrifyingly familiar shape.

Cirilla's heart leapt into her throat and she started to push her people away as the arm of the ancient magister jerked outwards, flexing it's new fingers. "Across the bridge. Now!" she shouted.

They all took off at a run and halfway across, she heard the shriek of Corypheus' dragon. It swooped in from overhead, pushing her to pump her legs that much faster. They clamored through the huge double doors, also in the eluvian shape, and then as one heaved them closed as the dragon unleashed some of it's deadly breath down the length of the bridge. The puff of smoke that got through blew them backwards, but the doors caught and magically sealed shut, the split between them disappearing. Cirilla gasped in a breath, lying on her back, her mind racing. Soon, Bull's shape loomed over her and he reached down a hand to help her to her feet. She slapped her palm into his and he lurched her up, dusting her off with heavy pats to her back. He grinned halfheartedly at her before letting her free to follow Morrigan who had taken a few steps further into the courtyard. "At last," Morrigan mused. "Mythal's sanctum. Let us proceed before Corypheus interferes."

Bull stomped past Cirilla, grunting. "If he's here for a mirror, why'd Corypheus say he wants a 'Well of Sorrows'?"

Morrigan scratched her head, looking sheepish. "I... am uncertain of what he referred to."

"You're not certain?" Cirilla said with a sneer. "You said you knew what he was looking for!"

"I suspected," Morrigan corrected. "I did not know." When Cirilla crossed her arms in irritation, Morrigan snapped back. "Yes, I was wrong! Does that please you? Whatever the Well of Sorrows might be, Corypheus seeks it, and thus you must keep it from his grasp."

Cirilla sighed, her shoulders slumping as she turned from Morrigan. Morrigan was right, and she hated to admit it. "Let's find this Well before Corypheus' people do." As she followed the narrow entry way lined with mushroom covered trees and vines that grew up the stone walls to a wide open courtyard, she seethed. "I want to know how Corypheus returned to life. We saw him _die_."

"And his life force passes on to any blighted creature, Darkspawn or Grey Warden," Morrigan explained.

"So _that's_ how the bastard survived Hawke!" Varric guessed emphatically.

Cirilla sighed, swallowing the hopeless feeling that washed over her. "We'll find a way to stop Corypheus once we're done here."

" 'Tis strange," Morrigan mused. "Archdemons possess the same ability, and still the Grey Wardens are able to slay them. Yet Corypheus they locked away. Perhaps they knew he could do this... but not how." As Morrigan spoke, they entered the courtyard and stepped up onto a raised dais that had two cylindrical stones standing atop a pedestal with ancient words carved all around them. Beneath their feet, the tile flickered with blue magic. "It appears the temple's magicks are still strong."

"Is this elven?" Cirilla asked, moving to brush some of the vines from the nearest statue. "Does it say anything about this 'Well of Sorrows'?"

Morrigan moved closer as well and tipped her head, then shook it. "I only recognize a few phrases... Ah! 'abelasan', meaning 'place of sorrow'. That must be the Well. There is something bout knowledge. Respectful or pure," he voice lowered and a small frown graced her forehead. "Shiven, shivennen..." She pondered a moment and then shrugged. " 'Tis all I can translate. That it mentions the Well is a good omen."

Cirilla shrugged in agreement. "At least we know the Well of Sorrows was important."

Morrigan studied the stones a few moments more and then looked down at her feet. "Supplicants of Mythal would have first paid obeisance here. Following their path may aid entry." She pointed down to the tile that had lit when they stepped on it and then around the dais at the similar tiles surrounding the stones. Then she stepped back, leaving Cirilla to puzzle out the pattern to light all of the tiles without backtracking.

Sera stood next to Bull, her hands wringing. "Oh ho, no. This is bad. _Rituals _are _bad_. You can't want this."

Morrigan rolled her eyes. "If need be. Unless you wish to turn back?" Cirilla followed the tiles around the dais, lighting them one by one and returning to where the others awaited her. When the final tile lit, a click sounded from the top of the grand staircase up to the main doors. "Well done," Morrigan praised. "Let us see what awaits." They climbed the stairs and started to see some bodies of red templars littering the ground. "I see the red templars have already encountered the temple's guardians," Morrigan pointed out.

""Looks like an ambush. Impressive work," Bull noted, his eye flicking as he made certain they weren't in for the same greeting.

The entry door glowed with the same blue light that the tiles beneath her feet had, and it opened easily with a light push. They entered into a darkened foyer that led through another door that opened into an inner courtyard. It was as if nature had been purposefully allowed to take over the temple itself. More trees grew, their thick roots sprouting up from the ground to block your path, forcing you around them. Elven mosaics and writings covered the walls, carefully carved to withstand the weathers of time. Above the courtyard, Samson stood with a slew of red templars and a sudden explosion rocked the foundations. As the door slammed behind them, Samson spun to glare at Cirilla and her people. "Hold them off!" he shouted before turning and jumping into the hole his explosion had caused.

Red templars surrounded them, and they had to fight their way free. As she slit the throat of a final foot soldier, she swiftly slipped her daggers away and charge toward the hole. "Hurry, we might catch them!"

Morrigan swiftly cut her off just before the hole. "Hold! A moment." Cirilla ground to a halt, her eyes wide as Morrigan blocked her. Morrigan pointed behind her to another door. "While they rush ahead, this leads to our true destination. We should walk the petitioner's path, as before."

"You forget that army fighting for us out there?" Bull demanded of her. "Longer we play around, the more Inquisition soldiers die. There's a hole... jump in."

Morrigan shook her hands. "Performing these rituals may mean the difference between reaching the Well before Corypheus' minions and not at all!"

"We don't need to reach the Well first if we stop them before they find it!" Cirilla argued, twitching toward the hole.

"Reach the Well before they do, and their plan is ended!" Morrigan snapped back. Then she visibly took a breath.

"And your plan?" Cirilla demanded.

Morrigan took her arm and led her to the side. "There is... a danger to the natural order. Legends walked Thedas once, things of might and wonder. Their passing has left us all the lesser. Corypheus would squander the ancient power of the Well. I would have it restored."

Cirilla snorted, crossing her arms. "You barely know what the Well of Sorrows is, but you want to restore it?"

"Yes!" she said emphatically. "Is Thedas so full of wonders that we should leave them to die one by one?" She hung her head sadly. "Mankind blunders through the world, crushing what it does not understand... elves, dragons, magic... the list is endless. We must stem the tide or be left with nothing more than the mundane. This I know to be true." When Cirilla's expression told her she was less than convinced, Morrigan narrowed her eyes. "I read more in the first chamber than I revealed. It said a great boon is given to those who use the Well of Sorrows... but at a terrible price."

"What sort of curse should we brace ourselves for if we use the Well?" Cirilla asked, her own eyes narrowing as well.

Morrigan sighed. " 'Twould be easier by far to advise you of a curse. This price is not so well defined. My priority is your cause, but if the opportunity arises to save this Well, I am willing to pay the cost."

"And gain what?" Cirilla demanded.

"That is what we must discover. The rituals may point the way," Morrigan suggested. Cirilla rolled her eyes and spun, heading for the hole again. Samson could have been halfway to the Well while they discussed things. "Will you abandon these rituals, Inquisitor?" Morrigan called after her. "Think carefully. There is no return once we leap after the templars."

Cirilla looked over the edge of the gaping hole and took the leap. She landed, bending her knees to absorb the impact. It was dark below, but torches burned on the ground where the templars had dropped them to light the way. Her companions dropped in alongside her, followed after a brief moment by Morrigan who glared angrily but nodded her chin toward the path ahead.

They had dropped into what looked like crypts of some sort. Cirilla remembered reading about elven lore and wondered if these were actual crypts or simply a place where the ancients laid their heads for what they called Uthenara, _the endless sleep. _The templars had left a trail of destruction easy to track, even as they fought through the enemies left behind to guard against them following. After a while, they ran into a blasted hole that the templars had collapsed behind them and they were forced to find another way around. They found an actual door that led them into a large ornate chamber that looked like it might have been a place to hold some sort of court.

" 'Tis not what I expected," Morrigan mused softly as they walked across the golden floor toward a upraised terrace at the back of the room where a throne might sit if this were a throne room. "What was this chamber used for..."

"Hmm," Cirilla shuddered as the mark twinged and she felt eyes creeping over her spine. "We're being watched."

Another elf stepped out onto the terrace and glared down at them, his arms crossed and a hood up over his head to hide his features. "Venavis..." he said in a deep tone. Then after he stared for a few more moments, Cirilla was shocked to hear him speak the King's tongue. "You... are unlike the other invaders. You stumble down our paths alongside elvhen, or at least those having our features." He looked at Sera, then his gaze found Cirilla. "You bear the mark of magic which is... familiar. How has this come to pass?" he demanded. "What is your connection to those who first disturbed our slumber?"

"They are my enemies," Cirilla answered. "As well as yours."

He narrowed his eyes, addressing Cirilla alone, now that he had determined she was the one in charge. "I am called Abelas. We are sentinels, tasked with standing against those who trespass on sacred ground. We wake only to fight, to preserve this place. Our numbers diminish with each invasion." He began to pace as Cirilla quietly tried to get count of how many of the elves surrounded them. "I know what you seek. Like all who have come before, you wish to drink from the Vir'Abelasan."

Morrigan gasped and hissed quietly, " 'The Place of the Way of Sorrows'. He speaks of the Well!"

"It is not _for_ you," Abelas scowled. "It is not for _any_ of you."

"We did not come here to fight you," Cirilla pleaded. "Nor steal from your temple."

Abelas looked up and shook his head. "I do not believe you. Our duty is clear. The Vir'Abelasan shall not be usurped... Even if I must destroy it." He looked to the other elves surrounding them and gave an order. "Masal din'an," before turning to disappear from the terrace.

"No!" Morrigan cried. Cirilla felt magic swirl around Morrigan and suddenly, she was a raven, taking flight to chase Abelas.

"Morrigan!" Cirilla called after her, but she continued to fly away as chaos broke out in the chamber.

Varric shoved her, and she felt the bite of an arrow as it grazed past her shoulder. Bull charged past her to wing his ax in a broad arc and slice the elf that had gotten a piece of her in two. Bianca clicked into action and Varric started to fire bolt after bolt, dropping caltrops with his free hand to slow down any of the elves that might try to get in close to him. Sera leapt out of the way of another arrow that flew through the room and landed gracefully on her feet to unleash her own flurry into the air so they rained down around some elves across the room. Cirilla had begun to sing her enchantments as she drew her poison coated daggers, recovering quickly from Varric's shove. Another arrow sped toward her, and she attempted to dance out of the way, but she had been in the middle of a twirl against another of the elves that had gotten into her radius. The arrow embedded itself in her side, ramming through her with such force that it pierced the meat of her waist and ripped back out the other side. She cried out before spinning to finish off the elf trying to stab her and then yanking one of her throwing knifes free of it's sheathe and flinging it at the one who had shot her. Simultaneously, the remaining elves fell to her companions. Cirilla reached around and pressed her hand over the trickling wound. "Dammit," she cursed.

Varric got to her first. "Ah, shit. We need to get that out," he grumbled, appraising the wound.

"Do we have any healing elixirs left?" she asked through gritted teeth as Bull reached her side.

"I have one," Sera announced, scurrying over and pulling the tiny vial from one of her pouches.

Bull allowed Cirilla to sag against him, then he grumbled. "Sorry, Kadan..." Swiftly, he reached down, gripped the end of the shaft sticking out her front, snapped it in two and yanked the head through. As she cried out, he dropped the pieces and his hand fell around the side of her head, combing through her hair. "You got this. Own it, Kadan," he soothed as Sera handed her the vial, already unstoppered.

She drank greedily, gasping around the pain. Bull held her close to him, waiting out the elfroot. The potion burned through her system, working to heal the worst of the damage, closing up the tears in her flesh, and making her painfully aware of every little scrape and bruise she had endured on their path through the Wilds. "Son of a bitch," she growled as the burning started to ebb as the potion wore down.

Bull loosened his grip on her and looked down with a smile. "You can hit me if you want to."

She chuckled and winced. "No..." then she sighed. "We need to get moving. The potion can finish it's job on the way."

Bull reluctantly let her go as Varric and Sera took the lead, heading for the door at the head of the room to the left of where they had entered. Bull toed one of the bodies out of his way as he followed close by Cirilla. "Apparently humans aren't the only stubborn fools on this continent."

"Hey," she said in mock insult. "Present company is offended."

He arched his brow at her and said jovially, "Who's the one that just took an arrow to the gut and decided to walk it off? Damned red heads."

She nudged him lightly. "You love me," she teased.

He huffed, a small smile creeping onto his lips. "Imagine my surprise..."

They continued through the sanctuary, solving the puzzle that was the layout around each corner. "This place is like a maze," Cirilla commented.

Sera sneered. "Elfy-elves didn't want normal people near their precious Well."

They ran into a few more scattered groups of both elves and red templars, busy fighting each other. Some of them, they were able to slip by, but most times, they were pulled into the fray. After what felt like hours, they broke through into a chamber that was partially covered, the rest walled in by plant life. Across a ravine, stood a tall landing where a constructed pool of water stood, the sun shining in from above. "The Well of Sorrows," Cirilla gasped as the sight widened her eyes. It was beautiful. The magic all around tugged at the mark.

"That's... something," Bull said warily as the sound of fighting reached them from the ravine below.

They hurried down the spiraling staircase as the din died down and Samson started to praise his troops. Cirilla rounded the corner, an angry scowl on her face. One of Samson's templars pointed her out and Samson turned to return the scowl. She realized this was the first time she had actually seem Samson this closely before. His armor was impressive. It was a full plate suit like most templars wore, but instead of grey, it was jet black, edged in silver. Along the fissures in the metal, streaks of red pumped lyrium straight into his veins. From his forearms and his chest, shards of pulsing red lyrium stuck out like angry teeth. He had greasy black hair that was slicked off his face which was pale and leathery. The irises of his eyes were ringed with circles of pure red, giving him a demonic look. "Inquisitor. You've got a damned long reach. You've hunted us half across Thedas. I should've guessed you'd follow us into this hole."

Cirilla stepped closer to him, casually getting in range to use the rune Dagna had made for her. "Your reserves are gone. So is the lyrium. Isn't it time to stand down?"

"To enjoy the mercy you showed our brothers and sisters? No, thanks," he shook his head. "Corypheus chose me twice. First as his general, now as the Vessel for the Well of Sorrows. You know what's inside the Well? Wisdom. The kind of wisdom that can scour a world." Samson turned to gaze up at the well high above. "I give it to Corypheus, and he can walk into the Fade without your precious Anchor."

"What's your part in it? What's a 'vessel'?" Cirilla demanded.

"What else empties a Well? I'll carry its power to Corypehus. One more task entrusted to me. Being force fed Chantry lyrium was good for something. This armor makes me a living fortress... mind and body. I won't forget a word of the Well's knowledge. Corypheus will be unstoppable."

"Corypheus already caused one disaster. Help him now, and he'll rip the world apart!" Cirilla reasoned, though she knew it was pointless. The red lyrium had done exactly what Dagna had said. Samson was mad.

He spun, taking a few steps closer to her and making Bull rumble in his chest. "I'm helping him reshape it! He's had centuries to make ready. You're no match for Corypheus. Even if you drink from the Well, you'll never master its wisdom as he could." Samson flexed and his armor reacted, a burst of magic undulating along his limbs from his core. "_This_ is the strength the Chantry tried to bind. But it's a new world now. With a new god. So, Inquisitor. How will this go?"

He called her out, pointing with a scowl as the lyrium pulsed through him. Cirilla reached into her pocket and took out the rune. "Power's all well and good. Until it's taken away."

The rune activated in such close unobstructed proximity ripples of magic danced around it like a tornado, and then Samson's armor cracked. He fell to the ground with a scream of agony as tiny shards of the crystals on his arms and chest fell down around him. "What did you do?" he demanded. "_What did you do_? My armor. It's gone. The lyrium..." he got to his feet, his ire focused directly on her. "I _need_ it! Kill them all!"

Samson drew a greatsword and charged for Cirilla. She abandoned the rune and swiftly drew her own weapons. She stepped out of the way and tripped him with her foot as he passed, trying to swing his sword for her neck. She followed him as he struggled to maintain his footing and slashed a few times for his vulnerable spots along his under arms and his thighs. She nicked him a few times, but he kept coming, nearly as fast as Bull in spite of the heavy greatsword in his hands. As soon as her companions finished off his minions, they assisted her. Bull charged in and kicked him in the chest, knocking him back. Samson stumbled to his knees. Faster than she could swoop in and take advantage, Samson downed a potion. Without his armor, the lyrium immediately took effect. He stood from his crouch and he was taller. He lifted his sword, also infused with the lyrium and slammed it down on the ground. He opened a fissure that cracked the ground toward Cirilla's feet then exploded with a burst of lyrium shards. With his new trick, she and Bull didn't dare get too close to him. Varric and Sera pelted him with projectiles, and Cirilla threw the last of her poisoned knives. He had been growing exponentially, but the constant wounds opening up all around his body was redirecting the lyrium to helping keep him alive instead of making him a larger target. Finally, he dropped his sword and fell to the ground face first. "Not the Well, you wretch. You can't take it from Corypheus. You mustn't..." he attempted to stand, but his arms gave out when he pushed himself up, and then his eyes rolled up in his head before he flopped down again.

"Still alive?" Varric chuckled in amazement. "That's some damned good armor."

"We can take him back to Skyhold for judgement," Cirilla suggested, collecting a few of her wayward knives and sliding them home. Suddenly magic crackled at the base of the well, and stairs began to form from stones that lifted and floated into place. Abelas appeared and began to ascend the growing staircase two stairs at a time. "Abelas!" Cirilla called after him, hoping to reason with him.

She chased after him, seeing Morrigan swooping in over his head and landing in front of the well to block him as she transformed back into her own skin. Cirilla cautiously edged around him to stand beside Morrigan. "You heard his parting words, Inquisitor. The elf seeks to destroy the Well of Sorrows!"

"So the sanctum is despoiled at last," Abelas growled, his eyes flicking between them.

"You would have destroyed the Well yourself, given the chance," Morrigan accused.

"To keep it from your grasping fingers! Better it be lost than bestowed upon the undeserving!" he spat.

"Fool!" Morrigan returned with equal animosity. "You'd let your people's legacy rot in the shadows!"

"Enough," Cirilla said, grasping Morrigan's arm.

"You cannot honestly..." she started to argue, yanking her arm back.

"I said, enough!" Cirilla reiterated.

Morrigan looked between the determined Cirilla and the confused Abelas, as Abelas did the same between the two of them. "The Well clearly offers power, Inquisitor. If that power can be turned against Corypheus, can you afford not to use it?" Morrigan said calmly.

Abelas shook his head, frowning. "Do you even know what you ask? As each servant of Mythal reached the end of their years, they would pass their knowledge on... through this. All that we were. All that we knew. It would be lost forever."

Cirilla shook her head. "It's better that knowledge remain in the Well, never passed on? You'd rather destroy it?"

He shook his head sadly. "Our duty is all that remains. Those who drank from the Vir'Abelasan paid a great price, bound to the service of Mythal for eternity."

Cirilla blinked. "You claim Mythal was truly a god?"

Abelas was now staring out over the calm waters of the Well. "To you... it shall make no difference." Without warning, he swung his arms around and a spell thrust Morrigan and Cirilla back. Cirilla landed hard on her back, the wind knocked from her lungs. As she rolled and gasped, trying to get back up, the waters of the Well began to swirl angrily. Abelas was destroying it. As quickly as they had started to slosh, the waters slapped back down into the Well, stilling unnaturally quickly. Abelas whispered. "Mythal sulevin."

Cirilla felt Bull dragging her to her feet and she spun as quickly as she could to see what had happened. Abelas fell to the ground, a bloody knife in Morrigan's hand. "Stubborn fool," Morrigan said almost sadly as she threw the knife away.

"You don't think maybe we're the bad guys?" Varric pointed out as Bull rubbed Cirilla's back and she regained the ability to breathe.

"And what if the Well was destroyed? Or this entire temple? Are you so eager to die for sympathy's sake?" Morrigan demanded.

Cirilla sighed and pushed away from Bull to gaze at the Well. "Well, it's done." There was nothing they could do to change it.

"That it is," Morrigan agreed. She moved up beside Cirilla and pointed across the waters. "You'll note the intact eluvian. I was correct on that count, at least."

"Is it still a threat? Can Corypheus use it to travel the Fade?" Cirilla asked.

Morrigan glanced at her. "You recall when I took you through my eluvian, I said each required a key?" When Cirilla nodded, Morrigan pointed. "The Well _is_ the key. Take it's power, and Mythal's last eluvian will be no more use to Corypheus than glass." Morrigan paused. "I did not expect the Well to feel so... hungry."

"Seems like that should be a concern," Cirilla said warily, taking a step back.

"Knowledge begets a hunger for more," Morrigan said sleepily as she stared at the Well. Finally, she drew her eyes away and looked at Cirilla. "I am willing to pay the price the Well demands. I am also the best suited to use its knowledge in your service. Of those present, I alone have the training to make use of this. Let me drink, Inquisitor."

"You're not concerned about the price? 'Bound forever to the will of Mythal'?" Cirilla frowned.

"Bound to the will of a dead god?" Morrigan scoffed. "It seems an empty warning. Perhaps a compulsion yet remains. Who can say otherwise? I do not fear it, even so."

Cirilla was concerned, not only for Morrigan, but for her son. What if this turned bad? What would she tell Kieran? "Are you sure you want this, Morrigan? We don't know what will happen."

"We do not, and yet it must be done. I am ready," Morrigan insisted.

Cirilla found herself biting her lip and looking to the others. Sera piped up. "It's called the Well of Sorrows. Sorrows. No one should go in the Well of _Sorrows_."

"This is a lot of... weird," Varric shook his head. "I barely understand how any of this works."

Bull huffed, his eye fixed on Cirilla. "Any chance this Well could help us against Corypheus, I say you take it."

"Enough deliberation!" Morrigan prodded. "Give me your decision."

Grudgingly, Cirilla nodded, backing away. "It's yours." She wished Morrigan had just let Abelas destroy the damned thing.

Morrigan smiled widely and then slowly stepped down into the pool of water. She trailed her fingers over the rippling waters as she passed to the deepest part in the middle, blue wisps of magic clouding up around her. She turned to face them again with her smile still intact. Then she dropped into the water, submerging herself. The water around her began to bubble and then swiftly it rose up in a wave and splashed down around all of them, emptying the Well completely. Cirilla remained unconcerned that she was not even damp as she rushed toward Morrigan who laid on her back, her eyes closed.

"Morrigan!" she got to her knees and touched her arm.

Morrigan shot up, mumbling and gasping, touching her face and body. "Ellasin selah! Vissan... Vissanalla..." She stood and looked around as if confused, then shook her head as Cirilla tried to steady her. "I... I am intact. There is much to sift through... but now we can..." she stopped talking and gasped as the remaining magic of the Well wisped around her ankles like a playful animal. They danced from Morrigan to Cirilla, tickling her skin through her armor. Morrigan smiled as she turned in place, but the expression faded and then she pointed toward the entrance across the ravine. Corypheus had come strolling in as if he expected Samson to be waiting for him, full of the Well of Sorrows. Cirilla heard his scream of rage from across the open space and Morrigan turned as he took to the air, hovering with his magic. "The eluvian!" she cried.

The mirror burst to life at a gesture from Morrigan and then she darted for it. "Through the mirror!" Cirilla demanded, pausing just shy of crossing through herself to shove the others in. Corypheus gained on them, and as Bull charged through the opening, she saw a feminine figure rush upwards from the remnants of the Well and block Corypheus' path. Cirilla lunged through and Morrigan closed it behind her. Seconds later, the mirror went dark. "What happened?" Cirilla asked, touching the blackened surface.

"The eluvian shattered," Morrigan explained.

"So we're stuck here?" Bull asked, his eye darting all around.

"No," Morrigan said calmly. "I will guide us back to my other eluvian that resides in Skyhold. It should only take us a few days at the most."

"Ach," Bull grumbled as Sera looked around, oddly calm after the way she had handled the Fade.

Morrigan started off, sure in her stride and Cirilla shrugged and followed behind her. After about ten minutes, Varric called ahead of them. "What's the rush, Buttercup?"

Sera stopped and spun to see she was leading them by a good ten yards. "What're you on about? You're the ones walking like snails. I'm walking normal." She waited for them to catch up and then they all continued on together. Within minutes, she had pulled ahead again. "Right, this is weird."

When they caught her again, Cirilla held up a hand. "Sera, come here. Stand there." Sera stood beside Cirilla and Cirilla said. "When I step, you step." Sera nodded and Cirilla took three wide steps. They counted together and Sera ended up six paces ahead of her.

"She's taller than you Kadan. Come here, Stringbean," Bull said. Sera rolled her eyes but moved to stand beside Bull. They repeated the experiment and Sera easily outpaced Bull by about four strides.

"No, no, no. I don't like it," Sera said nervously.

Cirilla moved to her side and took her hand. "We'll walk together."

Sera screwed up her mouth, but nodded. Morrigan started off again, and with Sera holding Cirilla's hand, they looked a bit ridiculous, Cirilla almost needing to run to keep up. When they reached an intersection of sorts, Cirilla stopped them so Morrigan could catch up and guide them.

The second day, Bull decided to carry Sera. She rode on his shoulders like a child, her arms draped over his horns. "This is so stupid," she complained, shifting so her elbows rested on either side of his head and dropped her chin on her knuckles.

"I could just drop you," Bull chuckled as they walked behind Morrigan.

Sera made a disgusted noise. "Just no kinky bed talk with Ciri while I'm up here. I know how you two get on."


	16. Take Back The Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taking out Corypheus

Carrying Sera seemed like the only option to keep everyone together, so for two days, she rode Bull's shoulders until they reached Morrigan's mirror. She activated it and stepped through. Bull lifted Sera off his shoulders and let her out first. Varric followed then Bull took Cirilla's hand and they went through together. It felt strange to have the semi charged air of Skyhold against her skin as opposed to the strange foggy atmosphere of the Crossroads.

"I need a scrub..." Sera said, rushing off toward the barracks.

Varric shuddered. "I think I do, too."

"I should send a raven to the Arbor Wilds, so they don't think we're dead," Cirilla sighed, happy to be home. She squeezed Bull's hand and then left the storage room as Morrigan closed down the eluvian. Whispers through the gardens from the Chantry mothers and a few workers followed her into the main hall. Skyhold was nearly deserted, save for a skeleton crew of guards, servants, and priests. Everyone else was still in the Wilds. She made her way up to the Rookery, quickly penned a letter scant on details and sent it off with Leliana's fastest raven, stamped with her seal.

"You got a minute?" Bull's voice startled her. She hadn't even heard him coming. He could be extremely quiet when he wanted to be.

She turned and offered him a smile. "Of course."

"I want to see your wounds... make sure you're healing okay," he said in the tone he normally reserved for demanding something in the bedroom. He was being defensive so she couldn't brush him off.

She glanced at the cut on his bicep that had bled through the poultice. "Okay. As long as I get to check you over too. " She crossed her arms.

He chuckled. "That's fair. I've already got a kit. Come on. Let's go somewhere we can relax." They went to her quarters and Bull set the kit down on her desk. Then he beckoned her closer and started undoing her armor. "You're going to need a new breast plate. This one's compromised," he said, dropping the heavy metal to the ground and nudging it out of the way. He surveyed every piece of her gear, adding a few more to the compromised pile and then started in on her under armor. He undid the half dozen buttons on her hauberk and slipped it off her shoulders. She wore only a breast band beneath it and dropping it exposed her bruised and cut up skin. He turned her around, running his hands over her skin to find the still tender places that the potion had started to heal. Then he knelt beside her and turned her so he could inspect the light scarring caused by the arrow wound. The skin all around it was an angry purple, the bruises from the impact beginning to fade to the ugly greenish yellow that told her it was normal bruising and not internal bleeding. "You got lucky, Kadan. Another inch up and in would have nicked your lung." He leaned over and gently laid his lips on her skin. "Get undressed, I'll be right back."

Bull left her quarters, returning not long after with a few buckets. He started dumping the water into her tub and it was steaming. She sat on her bed, taking off her boots and she stopped. "How did you...?"

"While you were sending your bird, I had a little chat with one of the servants. They've been warming up the water..." he explained, glancing up at her as he set the second bucket on the floor. "I told you to get undressed."

She continued to remove what little clothing she had left as he trekked up and down the stairs with the seemingly endless buckets of water. Once the over-sized tub was filled, he pulled a vial from a pouch on his belt and walked over to where she was now naked, sitting on the edge of her bed with her legs crossed, watching him work. He sat beside her and uncorked the bottle, hovering it beneath her nostrils. She inhaled and was almost overwhelmed by the flurry of scents that met her. When her nose caught up, the scents blended nicely. She caught light hints of something earthy, laced with a sweetness and then the bite of citrus balanced by a faint trace of lavender. "Mmm,"she hummed as she inhaled again to get a better feel for all of the scents together. "What is that?" she asked, as he pulled the bottle away.

"It's a little bit of everything," he said with a grin. "That earthy scent is elfroot to speed up the healing. Everything else is for aches, pains, and relaxation. Eases stress..." he leaned in and fluttered a kiss on her neck. "Helps you sleep..."

She sagged into his touch and sighed heavily. "I still want to have a look at your arm," she said, her voice low.

He snorted a chuckle against her neck. "I'll pour the salts in the water while it's still warm... let them dissolve a little..." he stood, moving to dump a generous amount of the concoction into the water before moving to get the kit from her desk.

Obediently, he sat down on the floor in front of her to lay his arm across her knees. She peeled back the poultice which should have been changed days ago. The wound was still open, but luckily, it showed no signs of infection. "Maker, that went deep," she mused, setting aside the old poultice and opening the kit to fish for the suturing needle.

Bull snorted as she hunted for the stitching thread. "That's what she said."

Cirilla pursed her lips to keep from chuckling. "Katoh... save me from your terrible humor."

He chuckled. "Oh, so that's what finally makes you say the watchword?"

She rolled her eyes. "Venak hol."

He grunted as she cleaned up around the wound and smiled at her with adoration. "You know, I've never heard an outsider take to Qunlat the way you were able to. I love the way your lips form the words."

She smirked, threading the needle. "You like a lot of things my lips do, Bull."

"Well, yeah, but most of them I can't talk about in polite company," he teased, flinching slightly as she pierced his skin.

"Parshaara," she scolded. "Hold still."

"That... stings..." he said threateningly.

"Tal-Imekari," she said, continuing the stitches.

He remained quiet after that, until she completed the stitches and was carefully applying another poultice. "Hurry up. I'd like to enjoy that bath before it's too cold to work properly."

She slapped her hand over the poultice and grinned. "All done."

He grunted, getting up off the floor. She stood to press her front against him and work on unbuckling his harness, tracing over his large pectorals as she slipped her hands up under the leather and lifted it off his shoulder. Seconds later, his pants fell and he pulled her over to the bath. He stepped in first and gingerly settled himself into the water, making sure not to slosh it over the sides, and mindful of the poultice so he wouldn't ruin her work. She stepped in after and lowered herself into the still almost hot water. She leaned into his chest and he wrapped his uninjured arm around her shoulders, hugging her to him. The salts in the water stung her open cuts, but the sensation quickly fell into the background as she breathed in the soothing aroma of the other ingredients. He hummed contentedly. "This is nice," he said, his thumb caressing lightly over her skin on her shoulder.

She leaned her head back against his chest, glancing up at him. "It's good to have some peace. Even if it's only for a few hours."

"You know," he pointed out. "The rest of the Inquisition probably won't be back for at least a week."

"What exactly are you suggesting?" she teased, running her fingers beneath the water from his knee to his hip.

He leaned in, her ministrations not getting the reaction she had expected as he remained limp at her back. He nipped at her neck playfully. "There will be plenty of time for that. I think tonight is a good night to just _relax_. It's been a rough few weeks. I can feel it in your muscles, Kadan. Let the bath do it's job." The more he spoke the soothing words in her ear and continued to rub her shoulder, the more she felt the pull of exhaustion tugging at her.

Bull was so unpredictable. It was one of the many things she loved about him. He kept her guessing with every new situation. He could read her like a book, sometimes knowing what she needed better than she did, and he always had a plan for that need. She was not sure what she would do without him.

Cirilla spoke with Varric and Sera the next day, feeling looser than she had in months after the long bath with Bull. Varric was reluctant to talk about all of the weird, but Sera greeted her with a wide grin. "Oh, hi, you! Strange days, right? Weird elves and Morrigan going wading. Better her than you. Glad to be back where things make sense after the demon-worshiping lies of Mythal. When do we go after what's-his-lumps?"

Cirilla grinned and raised a brow. "So your main takeaway is that elves worshiped demons?"

"Well, they never call them that, yeah? But that's what it had to be. I mean, it was impressive and all. Makes the Dalish look like tits for living in the woods. But so what? There can't be a bunch of gods _and_ the Maker. Don't matter how much or little you believe, those don't fit. So call me stupid, but I believe the stuff not made up by dead people who failed. Mythal is a _ruin_ full of _demons_. I mean, it just makes sense, right?" Sera said, suddenly wringing her hands and looking to Cirilla for guidance.

Cirilla swallowed, not fully thinking Sera was right, but she had a fair point. Rather than have to discuss a religion that she was uncertain she even still believed in, Cirilla slapped on a friendly smirk. "I'm with you, everything in that temple was highly suspect."

Sera rolled her eyes and gestured. "Of course it was. You couldn't be Herald and think otherwise, yeah? I mean, that would just be daft. So, main takeaway... we got really weird power, and we can throw it at Coryphy-whatever. Fighting shite with shite. It's like poetry or something. I don't know." She nudged Cirilla with a grin. "Get a bard on that. _We_ should go slap hands in the tavern."

After spending a few hours with Sera, taking her to the kitchens where she helped her make cookies without raisins, and then shared them on the roof, she actually found a spot in the courtyard to set a stool and began to play her lute. It was the most time she spent playing in a very long time, running through her vast list of ballads from memory. A few people here and there would pass by and stop to listen or even sing along. Others stopped to engage folks going about their business in a short dance around the courtyard. It was an afternoon filled with laughter and joy, and it made Cirilla happy that she could still bring that kind of brightness to another's day. It was a much needed reprieve from her normal day to day.

Just as Bull had predicted, they may as well have had Skyhold to themselves for almost a week. She checked in every few days with the hand picked fill ins for her advisers. They normally remained stationed at the three keeps that she had claimed in Crestwood, the Western Approach, and Emprise du Lion, but had been called in when it was known that Skyhold was going to be running on a skeleton crew for an extended period. Baron DeJardins, Captain Rylen, and Charter, were efficient, but she didn't quite share the rapport with them that she was used to from Josephine, Cullen, and Leliana.

Cirilla waited at the gates after a runner arrived in the morning letting her know that her advisers and inner circle had ridden ahead of the rest of the army. Finally, she saw the horses approaching. The first one through the gates was Dorian and he hopped off his horse, hurrying to her so he could sweep her up, lifting her off the ground so she shrieked with laughter. "Festis bei umo canavarum!" he scolded her. "We thought the worst, Cirilla."

Cullen appeared at Dorian's back as the mage looked her over as if he didn't quite believe she was still in one piece. Cullen smirked at her with his lopsided grin and said, "He's been cursing in Tevene for a week. He's your problem now."

Dorian clucked his tongue and backhanded Cullen's arm, his rings clanking lightly on Cullen's pauldron and making the Commander snicker with affection. "Like you weren't just as worried, Amatus."

Cullen rolled his eyes and waved off the supposed concern. "I'll let everyone get settled in and call the war council so we can report on the situation." he paused before leaving them and smiled again. "It's good to see you in one piece, Ciri."

She returned the smile as Dorian hooked her arm with his and started to lead her off. He walked them to the library, talking as they went. "What happened at the elven temple... it's got me thinking. I should go back, shouldn't I? To Tevinter. Once this is done... if we're still alive." He sighed, lacing their fingers together. "All my talk of how terribly wrong thing are back home, but what do I do about it? Nothing."

"How does this relate to the elven temple?" she wondered, her stomach knotting up at the thought of him leaving.

"You encountered ancient elves. A piece of history, something the Imperium didn't destroy. Maybe my people can atone for what we've done. There is something still left to restore. Maybe not all of us want to, but that could be altered. If you can change minds, so can I," he pointed out, twirling her as they approached his favorite alcove and sitting her in his wingback.

"You would just leave? What about...?" she began and his hand clenched in hers before he dropped it and pulled away to cross his arms.

"Cullen? Trust me, it would give me no pleasure to leave his side... You make monumental decisions affecting the entire world. How can I not consider some of my own?"

She bit her lip, knowing what he said about his homeland was true. "Someone with your impeccable taste could transform Tevinter."

"I hope you're right," he said before grinning. "You usually are. It might surprise you to know that you're the one who inspired me. You're shaping the world... for good or ill. How could I aspire to do any less? If it means proving that Tevinter can be better, that there's hope even for my homeland? I would do anything." He eyed her curiously for a moment and then smiled. "You look rejuvenated, darling. What _have_ you been doing in my absence?"

She scooted to the side of the wide chair and patted the cushion beside her. He rolled his eyes and took his staff from where it still hung from his back. Then he nestled himself beside her, lifting his arm so he could tuck her in the crook of his arm, making room for both of them. She laid her head on his chest, enjoying the scent of woodsmoke that still clung to him even after being on the road for weeks. "Relaxing," she hummed. "I took up the lute again. Now that everyone has returned, I think the people might miss my little concerts in the courtyard."

"There should be no reason to give that up," he said, his voice rumbling through her. "You could make it a weekly thing. I'm certain the world will not crumble around us if you take a few hours a week to ingratiate yourself with the masses... if that is what you enjoy doing."

"I do," she agreed with a sigh. "You're probably right."

He huffed lightly. "There is no 'probably' about it, Cirilla. I _am_ right. The Iron Bull is not the only one who enjoys your humming, you know, and it has been a while since I've heard it idly."

Dorian was not the first to tell her that. Even as they had stood together on the battlements for hours, Cullen had stayed and listened to her humming, smiling peacefully through most of it. Cole would stop by her room every now and again, forgetting that she could see and remember him each time he did it, and perch himself on her couch if she happened to be singing or humming while she worked on her reports. She never mentioned him being there, not wanting to scare him off. Sometimes when they were in the war room together, Leliana would even join her, shedding her harsh outward persona to give Cirilla a peek at the kind heart beneath. It was a known and accepted thing around Skyhold that she had been shirking for far too long.

She sighed, huddling more closely to him. "It feels like this is all going to be over soon. One way or the other."

"Corypheus doesn't have much going for him anymore. You have efficiently snatched it all away. He will likely be desperate," Dorian pointed out.

"Let's hope desperate doesn't mean a world ending temper tantrum," she said, patting his leg before extricating herself with a little helpful push from him. "I should head down to the war room. I'm certain Cullen is waiting ever so patiently."

Dorian unleashed one of his famous one note barks of laughter. "Patience is a virtue which our Commander was not blessed with." He shooed her away with a grin. "Good luck."

She was the last to arrive in the war room, and as soon as she stepped through the door, Cullen said, "I'm pleased to report we won the battle, Inquisitor. When you went through that mirror, Corypheus and his Archdemon fled the field. I'm not sure why."

"What he wanted was no longer within the temple," Morrigan explained.

"Perhaps," Cullen shrugged. "He spent so long trying to get into the temple, he probably couldn't have helped his forces by that point."

"Then Corypheus is finished?" Josephine asked tentatively.

"If he is wise," Leliana said. "he will hide and rebuild his strength before he attacks again."

"He will not hide," Morrigan stated.

"You sound pretty certain when you say that," Cirilla pointed out.

"The Well of Sorrows held many voices, and they speak to me now from across the ages," Morrigan said cryptically. "They hold wisdom, secrets I never dreamed possible. But even they fear what Corypheus has become."

"Should we fear him more than his army?" Cirilla wondered.

"Possibly," Morrigan nodded, then she smiled. "Luckily for you, he has a weakness. The dragon he calls is not truly an Archdemon. It is a dragon, in which Corypheus has invested part of his being. He doubtless did so out of pride, to emulate the gods of old. That pride can be exploited. Kill the dragon, and his ability to leap into other bodies is disrupted. He can be slain."

Cirilla shrugged and said sarcastically. "Just kill his dragon? Why didn't we think of that before?"

"There is a way to defeat the dragon, to match Corypheus in his power. The Well whispers it to me now. Your help will be required, Inquisitor. Speak to me when you are ready, and we shall begin."

"I'll see to Skyhold's defenses in the meantime," Cullen assured her.

Cirilla left the war room practically skipping. She hurried to Herlad's Rest where she found Bull, as usual, sitting in his over-sized chair in the back of the room. "What's got you all excited?" he asked at seeing her expression. Then he reached out and tugged her into his lap. She quickly explained what Morrigan had told them in the war room and he started to laugh. "So to kill Corypheus, all we have to do is kill his dragon first?" When she nodded, he hugged her waist tighter. "That's easy! We're _good_ at killing shit." He sighed in contentment. "Just one more big fight to put this magister asshole down for good." He leaned in and lightly started to drag teeth over her neck then whispered in her ear. "I knew you'd get us here, boss."

She purred at his ministrations. "I've been waiting for the chance to pay that bastard back," she lifted her palm with the mark glowing lightly and then closed her fist around it.

"Yeah," he agreed, closing his own hand around hers then lifting it to kiss her knuckles. "This is going to be fun."

Cirilla took the day to check in on everyone. She hadn't seen most of them since she left them at the forward camp. Cassandra was already looking to the future, but was uncertain about what that future held. Leliana was not so unconvinced. "I was pondering who might be Divine," the spymaster said to her. "And it suddenly occurred to me. Is it so ridiculous for the Grand Clerics to support me? Why shouldn't they?"

Cirilla nodded. It mattered to her that whoever became Divine should actually _want_ the title. "If you were Divine, what would you do?"

Leliana shrugged with a devious smirk. "Change things. Change everything. No more Circles. The mages will be free. The Chantry will accept them as the Maker's children. In fact, it will accept everyone. Elves, dwarves, even Qunari. Why exclude them? The Chantry allows our differences to tear us apart, instead of teaching us how we are the same."

If Cirilla had liked what Cassandra had suggested about the Chantry, she _loved_ what Leliana was saying. There had been specific personal reasons why she had chosen the life she had before the Breach, and Leliana's reforms spoke to her reservations about the Chantry. The changes she put forth were all things that Thedas needed. "I think you would make a good Divine."

Leliana smiled sweetly. "I am glad to hear it. Your support may persuade the Grand Clerics to vote in my favor. Justinia wanted the Chantry to grow, but her reforms never took root. She was held back by tradition and was too gentle to force change. I won't make that mistake."

"You can't force people to change their minds," Cirilla reminded her.

"Then how will change ever come? People do not simply happen upon enlightenment. Most must be carried there. Justinia thought the Circles needed to change, but why stop there? The Chantry alienated potential allies by brutalizing elves and belittling dwarves. If we could bring them into the fold, wouldn't we have peace? There are those who would cling to the old ways, of course, but they will see. I would make them see." Leliana sighed. "Ah, but I have rambled on too long. I am not Divine. Yet."

It was evening before she tracked down Cole. He was sitting rather precariously on the ledge above the staircase that led from the battlements down to the upper courtyard. When he saw her, he tipped his head and whispered, looking confused. "Corypehus died, and then he didn't." She moved to climb onto the narrow ledge herself and sat down. "That's why he always felt wrong, like he didn't fit inside himself. He wears another man's life. I thought dying was forever."

Cirilla nodded. "So did I. Corypheus seems to break a lot of rules."

Cole stood, stepping over her to walk along the narrow ledge, making her cringe. As he passed, she noted the fact that since becoming human, he had, like the others, developed a scent that she associated with only him. Cole reminded her of fresh linens after they had dried on the line the day after a thunderstorm. It was a oddly calming scent. He paused a few feet from her and looked out over Skyhold. But is it him? Is he real? If a man can be dead and then not..." He looked down, pondering beneath his hat brim. "Could I have saved the real Cole?"

She hummed lightly to draw his attention and then held out her hand, beckoning him back to her. He turned gracefully and moved to sit down at her side where she took his hand. "What happened to him wasn't your fault."

He looked at her warmly. "His hands were bruised from beating on the wall. It was dark like the cabinet where he hid to escape his father. His belly hurt like knives, throat cracked dry. He was alone. I pushed through and held his hand." He squeezed her hand. "It was all I could do. He said, 'thank you'." Then Cole leaned over, resting his head on her shoulder. "Thank you," he whispered.

They sat together for some time, and she soothingly hummed for him, knowing he was benefiting from the attention as his muscles relaxed slightly.

The next morning, she woke early, heading for the gardens to find Morrigan and get started on the plan she had to defeat Corypheus. On the way, she passed by the small shrine to Andraste that had been set up in a room right off the gardens. She had yet to visit the shrine herself, no longer finding comfort in the Chant as she had once. She was surprised to hear Cullen's voice low and steady as he recited the familiar words. "Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide. I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond. For there is no darkness in the Maker's light and nothing that He has wrought shall be lost..."

When she stepped into the candlelit room, the sun shone through the tall windows, lighting up the statue of Andraste that held it's arms outward as if beckoning her children into her arms. Candles flickered at the statue's feet, adding warmth to the room. Cullen was kneeling just shy of the short steps up the dais where the candles rested. She approached him quietly. "A prayer for you?"

He turned to glance at her over his furry mantle. "For those we have lost. And those I am afraid to lose."

Her stomach clenched and she stepped one step closer, wishing she could find solace again in prayer. "How can you still have faith?" she asked, hugging herself.

He looked back at the statue and sighed. "I have questioned it at times, but I have found comfort in faith when life offered little. Corypheus will retaliate. It's only a matter of time. We must draw strength wherever we can." He stood from his respectful kneel and turned to her, offering a kind smile.

She returned the smile, forcing herself into a more confident stance.Then she snickered. "Unless he gets bored and surrenders. Any chance of that?"

Cullen added his own chuckle, resting his hands on his sword hilt. "I doubt it." Then he tipped his head. "What are you doing out here?"

She threw her finger over her shoulder. "I was actually on my way to see Morrigan."

He nodded. "That's where Leliana was headed as well. I won't keep you."

Cirilla smiled and left the shrine room to head to Morrigan's quarters. Instead, she found Leliana outside the storage room where the eluvian stood. "Inquisitor! Thank the Maker you're here!" She gripped Cirilla's arm with urgency, her voice panicked. "Morrigan chased after her son into the eluvian. She was terrified."

"She was _chasing_ Kieran?" Cirilla gasped.

Leliana nodded. "She said _he_ activated the mirror somehow, and then she ran into it. I've never seen Morrigan like that. You _must_ go after her!" Cirilla nodded as Leliana released her arm. "I will find help, Inquisitor."

Cirilla darted through the small storage room and into the eluvian. On the other side, she unexpectedly did not come out in the crossroads. "This is the Fade!" she gasped to herself as she recognized the moist, green tinged world. This part of the Fade however, did not feel as wrong as the lair of the Nightmare and she took a deep breath to press forward, leery of the spirits that hovered nearby. She found Morrigan not far off, standing in the middle of a clearing and looking from one direction to the next, her eyes wild as she wrung her hands. Cirilla ran up to her. "Morrigan!"

"Go back! I must find Kieran before it's too late!" she cried, her voice wavering. When Cirilla stopped at her side, she sighed. "Why would Kieran do this? _How_ could he do this? We stand in the Fade. To direct the eluvian here would require immense power. If he is lost to me, now after all I have sacrificed..."

Cirilla stepped in front of her to look around, pondering what direction Kieran might have gone. "We'll find him, Morrigan. He can't be far."

Morrigan scoffed. "The Fade is infinite. He could literally be anywhere." She brushed past Cirilla and continued. "Whatever happens to him now, 'tis my doing. I set him on this path." Her head dropped, her shoulders slumping. "Please help me look, Inquisitor. Just a little longer."

Cirilla approached Morrigan and set a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Of course."

They set off together, Morrigan seemingly following the voices in her head from the Well. Cirilla was glad the voices knew where they were going. She felt uneasy and disoriented, herself. After no more than ten minutes, they crested a set of wobbly stairs and Cirilla spotted movement ahead. Kieran stood before a kneeling figure, casting some sort of spell. Cirilla frowned.

"There he is!" Morrigan cried.

"Who's with him?" Cirilla asked, matching Morrigan's jog.

"That's..." Morrigan's stride slowed and she gasped. "No. It can't be."

Kieran noticed them and reigned in the spell with a snap of his fingers. "Mother!" he said excitedly.

"Mother..." Morrigan growled.

The woman stood, cocking a shapely hip. "Now, isn't this a surprise?" She gazed at them with the same golden eyes that Morrigan had. Cirilla glanced between the two of them, noting that they indeed shared a slight resemblance. The woman Morrigan had called mother wore a burgundy colored set of clothing that clung to a body that was in much better shape than a woman of her supposed age normally could maintain. Skin showed from beneath the feathered pauldrons down to her chest, but every thing else was modestly covered. The tail of her hauberk hung low in the back, touching the ground in spite of the couple of inches to her height added by her tall boots which were covered with spiked metal greaves. Her hands were similarly armored with gauntlets up to her elbows. Her profile made for an impressive sight, her long white hair drawn back on both sides and shaped into horns like a dragon's.

Clearly not the good sort of surprise," Cirilla muttered as she watched the exchange of glares between the two women.

"My lovely Morrigan has a flair for the dramatic. Thankfully, my grandson is more sensible," she placed a gentle hand on Kieran's back with a smile.

"Kieran is _not_ your grandson. Let him go! Morrigan shrieked.

Her mother cackled. "As if I were holding the boy hostage." She looked over at Cirilla and spoke as if Morrigan could not hear. "She's always been ungrateful, you see."

"Ungrateful?" Morrigan shouted angrily. Then she pointed an accusatory finger at her mother. "I know how you plan to extend your life, wicked crone! You will not have me, and you will not have my son!" She lifted her arms, tendrils of magic beginning to swirl around them up to her forearms.

Her mother sighed. "That's quite enough. You'll endanger the boy." Her mother's eyes glowed a light blue, and she lifted her own palm to cast in Morrigan's direction.

Morrigan's spell backfired, making a snap of sound and making Morrigan stumble backwards looking at her own hands in confusion that quickly turned to anger. "What have you done to me?"

"_I_ have done nothing. _You_ drank from the Well of your own volition," her mother mocked with a smirk.

"You..." Morrigan gasped and her eyes widened. "are Mythal."

"Well," Cirilla said slowly. "That was unexpected."

'Mythal' looked at Cirilla and tipped her head. "You, of all people, should expect the unexpected by now." Then she nudged Kieran who smiled and ran to Morrigan, hopping into her arms for a hug.

"I'm sorry, Mother," he said. "I heard her calling to me. She said now was the time."

Morrigan shook her head in confusion as Kieran moved back to stand beside 'Mythal' again. "I do not understand."

'Mythal' put her hand on Kieran again and said, "Once I was but a woman, crying out in the lonely darkness for justice. And she came to me, a wisp of an ancient being, and she granted me all I wanted and more. I have carried Mythal through the ages ever since, seeking the justice denied to her."

Cirilla crossed her arms thoughtfully. "Then... you carry Mythal inside you?"

She smiled and nodded. "She is a part of me, no more separate than your heart from your chest." Then she looked to Morrigan. "You hear the voices of the Well, girl. What do they say?"

Morrigan closed her eyes as one might when listening to their own thoughts. "They... say you speak the truth."

"But what _was_ Mythal?" her mother prompted. "A legend given name and called a god, or something more? Truth is not the end, but a beginning." Then she looked to Cirilla with a coy smile. "A herald, indeed. Shouting to the heavens, harbinger of a new age. As for me, I have had many names. But you... may call me Flemeth."

"I know the name 'Flemeth'," Cirilla gasped. "It belongs to an ancient Ferelden legend." She dug into her memories and recited. "It says, long ago, you left your husband for a lover. Your husband then tricked you, killed your lover, and imprisoned you. Then a spirit came to offer you vengeance. Mythal... that's what you spoke of."

Felmeth gave her a grave look. "One day, someone will summarize the terrible events of your life so quickly. But, yes, I was that woman. That is how my tale began."

"Flemeth appears in other legends, helping heroes for reasons of her own," Cirilla pointed out.

Flemeth shrugged. "I nudge history, when it's required. Other times, a shove is needed." She chuckled in amusement.

Cirilla pursed her lips, wondering if she was there to help them. "I presume you know what we're up against."

"Better than you could possibly imagine," she agreed.

"So will you help us?" she asked.

"Once I have what I came for," Flemeth nodded, glancing at Kieran and smiling.

Morrigan saw her intentions and shook her head wildly. "No. I will not allow it."

Flemeth sighed. "He carries a piece of what once was, snatched from the jaws of darkness. You know this."

"He is not your pawn, Mother. I will not let you use him!" Morrigan growled.

"Have _you_ not used him? Was that not your purpose, the reason you agreed to his creation?" Flemeth countered.

"That was then. Now he..." Morrigan looked at Kieran. "He is my _son_." With her choked tone, Flemeth's determination dwindled and her own expression softened. Morrigan cleared her throat and pointed to Flemeth. "Flemeth extends her life by possessing the bodies of her daughters, Inquisitor. That was the fate she intended for me. I thwarted her, and now she intends to have Kieran instead!"

Cirilla shook her head, her mouth agape. "Whatever else you think he is, Kieran is still a child!"

Flemeth scoffed. "And so much better behaved than his mother was at his age."

"Kieran, I..." Morrigan fell to her knees in defeat, wiping the smile from Kieran's face that he had gotten with the praise from Flemeth.

He turned his saddened expression to his grandmother and she smiled sweetly. "As you wish," she said, turning to Morrigan who stood again, ready to listen. "Hear my proposal, dear girl. Let me take the lad, and you are free of me forever. I will never interfere with or harm you again. Or, keep the lad with you... and you will never be safe from me. I will have my due."

"I will take my chances," Morrigan said quickly.

Flemeth's eyes narrowed. "I found you once, girl. What makes you think I will not find you again?"

Morrigan's fists clenched. "Take over my body now, if you must. Just let Kieran go. He will be better off without me, just as I was better off without you."

Flemeth's expression turned sad and regretful. Then she looked at Kieran, turning to face him. She took his hands in hers and he watched her, unafraid. A bright light began to glow around his chest and he glanced at it curiously. It lifted from him and floated in a ball to Flemeth, disappearing into her chest. Then she smiled. Kieran's eyes widened but not in fear. "No more dreams?" he asked in shock.

"No more dreams," Flemeth confirmed before nudging him back to Morrigan who took him under her arm with a reassuring smile. "A soul is not forced upon the unwilling, Morrigan. You were never in danger from me. Listen to the voices. They will teach you... as I never did."

When Flemeth turned and started to walk off, Morrigan called after her, but she did not respond, disappearing into the Fade. Morrigan hugged Kieran closer and with a sigh, turned to head back to Skyhold. Cirilla followed, still slightly shell shocked. "Are you all right, Kieran? You are not hurt?" she asked after they stepped back into the safety of the storage room.

"I feel lonely," she said, but still he smiled. Morrigan ruffled his hair and sent him off toward the garden.

"She wanted the Old God soul all along," Morrigan mused as she watched him go. She sighed and looked at Cirilla. "Is it worth reminding myself that perhaps I do not know everything after all? My mother has the soul of an elven goddess... or whatever 'Mythal' truly was... and her plans are unknown to me."

"You truly had no idea what she was?" Cirilla asked in wonder.

"I knew she kept the truth form me. I even suspected she was not truly human... but this? I always thought the so-called 'elven gods' were little more than glorified rulers, but now I have doubt. And doubt is... an uncomfortable thing, Inquisitor. Just be thankful you did not drink from the Well. I am evidently tied to my mother for eternity."

Sensing Morrigan's unease, Cirilla asked. "So what happens now?"

Morrigan turned and closed down the eluvian. "Now we must prepare to face Corypheus himself. It seems Mother was right. The voices of the Well tell me I will be able to match his dragon. All that remains is for you to find him." She smiled grimly and left Cirilla to herself.

Cirilla called her war council together later that afternoon to get them onto finding Corypheus so she could end him. Leliana looked warily at Morrigan and asked, "Did you... find what you need, Morrigan?"

"I can match the Darkspawn Magister's dragon, yes. As for matching Corypheus..." She glanced at Cirilla with a small smile. "That is up to you, Inquisitor."

"Believe me, I know," Cirilla said, her stomach knotting.

"Then all that remains is to find Corypheus before he comes to us," Cullen said gruffly.

"We've been looking for his base since all this began, with no success," Leliana reminded them all.

"His dragon must come and go from _somewhere_," Cullen pointed out. He was right. A dragon would be hard to miss flying in and out from wherever they were holed up.

Josephine made a suggestion as well. "What about the Deep Roads? We could send word to Orzammar, hire envoys to..."

Cirilla's palm lit up with a burst of magic that snapped her arm upwards. She glared at it as the Breach in the sky out the windows swirled to life once more, lighting the entire room in a wash of green light. "It seems Corypheus is not content to wait," Morrigan said, as Cirilla balled her fist furiously.

"He's in the Valley of Sacred Ashes?" she asked Morrigan as the magic pulsed annoyingly.

Morrigan nodded. "You either close the Breach once more, or it swallows the world."

"But that's madness!" Josephine protested. "Wouldn't it kill him as well?"

Everyone in the room looked at each other, at a loss for what to do, then Cullen spoke up. "Inquisitor, we have no forces to send with you... We must wait for them to return from the Arbor Wilds."

Cirilla cringed. "Just as Corypheus expects, I suppose." She took one more look out at the Breach, swirling menacingly above where Haven used to be. He was practically on their doorstep, calling her out. She needed to go. "Have everyone ready to ride. I need to prepare. Leliana, if you have anyone on reserve, send them ahead."

"I shall go ahead as well and find a suitable place to make ready," Morrigan agreed.

"Be careful, Ciri," Cullen warned as he and the others rounded the war table to follow her instructions.

Her companions had already been preparing, having seen the Breach burst open for themselves. Cirilla went to the Undercroft and picked up the new gear that had been made for her after her last armor was destroyed in the Wilds. Dagna boasted about all of the new improvements, nervously talking her way through Cirilla finding every little slot and crevice that she could shove a knife and loading herself up. Then she strapped her daggers onto her waist and was ready to go.

At the gates, her friends were awaiting her. She hung back a moment, allowing them to say a few goodbyes to people that had come to see them off. It might be their last chance. She watched Dagna rushing down past her to give a warm hug to Sera who picked her up off the ground and repeatedly kissed her entire face, making the arcanist giggle. Blackwall moved Josephine off to the side and handed her a single flower, said a few words and then sullenly moved toward the gates, making Josie place her fingertips to her mouth and her cheeks flush. Leliana stepped up to quietly tease her friend while simultaneously setting her disapproving glare on Blackwall. Cullen and Dorian were standing a further toward the stables. Cullen had his hands wrapped around Dorian's biceps and he looked to be lecturing him fiercely. Dorian reached up with a sentimental smile and placed his finger on Cullen's lips. He said something which made Cullen shake his head, dislodging the finger and then pull the other man against him for a tight hug. After melting into the hug momentarily, Dorian shoved him away with a typical Dorian scowl and the hand came up again to waggle his finger which Cullen pushed aside and leaned in to give him a gentle farewell kiss to which Dorian did not object.

When it seemed like everyone had said their goodbyes, Cirilla finished coming down the stairs, adjusting her gloves and called out, "All right, everyone. Let's finish this."

She moved to mount her horse, as the others all did as well. She was stopped by a hand grabbing hold of her belt and pulling her back out of the stirrups. "Did you think you could let everyone else say their goodbyes and not have to do it yourself?" Bull asked turning her to face him.

She smirked up at him. "I don't know about you, but I don't plan to die today, Kadan."

He harrumphed. "Even so, I want you to know, what I said in the dining hall that night. I meant it. I love you, Kadan. No matter what."

She smiled and lifted her hand to cup his cheek, her finger-less gloves allowing her to stroke a thumb lightly over his thin beard. "I love you, too. Now let's go stomp this asshole... Ataash varin kata."

They rode swiftly through the mountains coming to Haven within half a day. They left their horses and trekked to the Temple. Night was falling over the Valley already. Corypheus had begun to set his demons on the scouts and soldiers that Leliana had sent ahead, but they were fighting valiantly. Cassandra charged in, saving one of the men from a terror demon, shoving her sword through it's gaping maw of a mouth. Cirilla bypassed the fighting, her daggers already in her hands. Her companions and the Chargers spread out to deal with the demons. "It ends here, Corypheus!" she cried, calling him out as he summoned more demons with his orb spewing magic above his head.

"And so it shall," he agreed, crouching to draw more magic forth. The ground beneath her feet began to tremble and suddenly, her stomach sank as they began to rise. He had pulled up the earth itself to separate her from reinforcements. She looked around, panicked to see who had been close enough to make the cut. Bull, Sera, and Varric, always at her side, were there, along with Vivienne, Solas, and Dorian. Relieved that she would have magical assistance, she scowled at Corypheus. "You have been most successful in foiling my plans," he said in his deep and gravely voice. "But let us not forget what you are. A thief, in the wrong place at the wrong time. An interloper. A gnat. We shall prove here, once and for all, which of us is worthy of godhood."

"I didn't come here to become a god, Corypheus," Cirilla growled.

He leered at her and from behind him, atop the crumbled remains of the Temple of Sacred Ashes, his dragon crept into sight. It moved menacingly down from it's perch and then leapt like a cat, diving for Cirilla, claws and teeth extended. Her heart stopped for a split second, as she braced for death, but then in mid air, another dragon swooped from out of nowhere to crash into Corypheus' dragon and knock it off course. She stumbled back in surprise, catching a brief glimpse of the dragon. It's scales were purple, and it reminded her, in shape, of the one they had killed in Crestwood. The dragons disappeared over the edge of the floating mountain that they stood on, clawing and biting each other. "You dare!" Corypheus growled. Cirilla took the moment to start singing her enchantments. Corypheus talked too much. It gave her the advantage of time as he taunted. "A dragon. How clever of you. It will avail you nothing." He began to cast as she moved toward him with determination. "You will fall as a warning to those who oppose my divine will!"

Cirilla pulled a single knife from her arsenal and sung her enchantment into it. When she flung it at Corypheus, it sliced through him multiple times, darting back and forth at least six times before the enchantment broke and it fell to the ground. Her friends had begun to fight as well. She had not fought with so many mages on the field since the night Corypheus attacked Haven. With the Breach so nearby, Solas' spells thrummed heavily across the field, knocking Corypheus around. Dorian had picked out the bodies of several demons lying around the ground at their feet and began to reanimate them to sic on Corypheus. Bolts and arrows stuck out of his flesh like he was a pincushion. He was making it difficult for anyone to get near him, pulling arcs of jagged red lyrium spikes from the ground around him for protection in between shooting beams of charring magic from his palms that scarred the ground wherever it struck. Varric tossed grenades at the spikes, shattering them so Bull, Vivienne and Cirilla could slip in and get some hits in.

Realizing his tactics weren't working, Corypheus flickered out of sight and teleported himself above. Cirilla and the others gave chase, "I will not stand for this outrage! Look at you, a Soporati nipping at the heels of your betters! You are nothing! All you love will be ground under the Imperium's heel!"

"Ach!" Bull growled as he charged Corypheus. "I hate talky ones."

Cirilla flung more of her knives and then enchanted another just as she had the first. Corypheus was focused on her. When he drew his hand back and more of his red magic burst forth, she had to roll out of the way to take cover behind a half wall that was still intact. The magic grazed her arm and she gritted her teeth as it burned like acid. She waited for the sound of the spell to stop and stood from her cover. With her other arm, she flung three more daggers and then charged him. Before she could reach him, he flickered out of sight again. "Where the fuck did the bastard go this time?" She growled angrily as Dorian rushed to her and inspected her arm. With a wave of his hands, the burn soothed and she could feel the healing magic taking effect on a few more of her cuts.

They chased after Corypheus who had retreated higher up in the Temple. Vivienne's staff transformed into a blade made of pure magical energy and she stepped u to wield it on a few demons that had crashed down in one of the fiery balls that fell from the Breach. Cirilla quickly took note that Corypehus was no longer personally summoning the demons that attacked. Could that mean he was weakening? The flurry of hope the idea gave her was quickly quashed as the dragons soared over them, crashing into one of the nearby towers and knocking over the already crumbling stone and mortar and sending them scrambling in several directions. Cirilla watched for a moment, losing sight of Corypheus as he retreated again. The purple dragon, which Cirilla was assuming Morrigan had gained control of somehow, since she had never specifically said how she meant to match the red lyrium dragon, soared ahead of the other, gaining altitude. It climbed toward the Breach while the tattered wings of Corypheus' dragon kept it from being able to catch it. When it got almost so high that it could have passed through the Breach, it twisted it's body and then shot downwards, folding it's wings against it's sides to gain speed. It rocketed toward the other dragon and then flared it's wings when it crashed into it, grabbing it with its claws and gnashing it's teeth. The dragons fell together, biting and clawing and spinning out of control. At the last second as Cirilla realized she needed to get out of the way, the red lyrium dragon flipped the other dragon underneath it and swiped at it's belly with razor claws. The purple dragon's shriek of pain was silenced as they crashed into the ground much too close to Cirilla and her people for comfort.

A bright flash of magic burst forth from the purple dragon and Cirilla shielded her eyes. When she looked back, Morrigan was lying prone where the dragon had been. Cirilla saw her struggling to push herself to her feet, blood pouring from the wound in her gut. Her arms gave out and she fell to the ground again, going still. "Morrigan!" Cirilla cried as the red lyrium dragon stood, shaking the dirt and rubble from it's body and then spotted them.

"Dragon lady, she might still be alive. We should help her," Bull shouted from across the field.

Cirilla growled as the dragon set it's sights on her and lifted it's head, a rumbling beginning in it's chest that indicated it was going to be breathing lightning at her any second. "There's a dragon trying to kill us!" She flicked her eyes around the field and rolled out of the dragon's breath attack just as it hit the ground beside her. Heat rose around her and the red lightning crackled noisily. "Vivienne! Help Morrigan!"

Cirilla watched the Knight Enchanter barrel across the field, a shield of ice forming around her person before she performed a spell that mages referred to as Fade Step. The spell left a trail of ice on the ground behind her as she moved with impossible speed from one place to another.

The rest of them converged on the dragon. Using a tactic similar to the one they had used on the dragon in Crestwood, Cirilla, Bull, Varric and Sera split up, each taking a leg. Cirilla could see the cuts and vulnerable spots that Morrigan had left for them as she fought the other dragon. She had done half their job for them. Cirilla found herself opening up her heart to pray for the first time since she had faced Corypheus before. Morrigan needed to be okay.

The rage she felt toward the dragon intensified, feeding the rage she was already nursing against Corypheus. Her vision tunneled, blocking out everything else that was happening. She hoped Corypheus was ready for her because she was going to kill his dragon and then she was going to rain vengeance down on him for everyone he had killed since breaking open the sky. She ducked down as the dragon chomped it's jaws at her, then she rolled out of the way as it tried to swat her out of play. When she came up, she had freshly slicked poison on her daggers. She shouted and slashed for it's serpentine neck. She sliced three times in quick succession in between the hardened plates that lined it's upper and lower neck, then she jabbed both daggers forward, digging deep into its flesh. Blood sprayed outwards, telling her she had hit an artery and the dragon shrieked, throwing it's head back in agony. It slumped to it's belly and then to it's side before it's head flopped to the ground with a thunderous crash. She watched the blood pump from the wound and finally the heavy labored breathing ceased. Seconds later, a familiar flash of magic burst from the dragon's corpse forming into a red ball to float away. She watched the magic streak across the sky and head straight back to where it came from. Corypheus stumbled as the magic returned to him. Cirilla grinned in triumph as he growled, calling the orb from the sky above him and beginning to cast with it between his hands. "Let it end here! Let the skies boil! Let the world be rent asunder!"

Cirilla started forward, finding a path that would lead her up to Corypheus. She wasn't even certain whether anyone followed. All she saw was red. When she reached the very top of the temple where Corypheus was hovering in the middle of the collapsed room, red lightning crackling above him, she noticed what he was doing. "The Breach is getting bigger!" she cried, drawing her weapons.

"And then the Fade swallows the world, right?" Varric said in a panic from her side.

Corypheus saw them approaching and abandoned the orb to float in place. With a burst of magic that stumbled them all backwards, he began to call more of the burning red magic to his hands. Cirilla kept on him, chasing him down each time he would flicker back and forth across the field to escape the beating they were giving him. Several times, he would hit an invisible barrier that Solas provided, or get pinned down by a flurry of tiny fireballs that Dorian pushed through a glyph he traced in the air before him. Cirilla took a few more burns from his magic, but she could hardly feel them through her rage. Was this what it felt like for Bull when he called on his reaver skills? No wonder the was able to ignore every injury he took until the battle was over. Her heart raced, her blood pumping loudly in her ears. Sera and Varric had run out of projectiles, and Cirilla watched as Solas cast a spell that tore the arrows and bolts from Corypheus' flesh and returned them to their owners. Sera made a disgusted face, allowing the arrows to hover in the air for a moment before gingerly grabbing a few and shoving them in her quiver. Varric had no such qualms. He took the bolts and loaded them swiftly into Bianca and continued firing. Bull charged into Corypheus and bodily knocked him from the air. Cirilla took the opportunity to swoop in and slash a few times at Corypheus' middle. Corypheus lifted his arms and gathered magic from the orb, his eyes glowing red, then she flung his arms down and a wave of magic knocked her off her feet. She slammed onto her back, temporarily winded.

"Not like this!" he cried, reaching up to grab the orb from the sky. "I have walked the halls of the Golden City, crossed the ages..." Cirilla rolled to her knees, gathering her breath again, the mark calling to the orb in his hands. She clenched her fist, activating the Anchor with a thought as she stood to face him. The orb was struggling in his hands, fighting him. "Dumat! Ancient ones! I beseech you!" She reached out her hand, drawing on the power of the orb. She had the Anchor. The orb belonged to her. "If you exist... if you ever truly existed... aid me now!"

With one last exertion of her will, the orb snapped from his hands and landed lightly in her palm, his red magic flickering out and the green glow crackling around the edges. Corypheus fell to his knees, his expression one of disbelief. She leveled a victorious smirk on him before thrusting the orb skyward. A beam of magic immediately connected the orb to the Breach and a wave exploded from the middle of the glowing vortex of clouds. The glow dissipated, leaving the vortex that they had looked upon for months after she had closed it the first time. Although she could feel that the magic was not finished, even as the orb went dormant. She dropped it to the ground and approached the broken, ancient magister. She scowled, twitching her fingers and shifting the flow of magic from the Anchor. "You wanted into the Fade?" she taunted, shoving the mark against his twisted face. The rift opened slowly by her will, pulling Corypheus apart from the inside out. Finally, it burst open and she watched as he disintegrated into millions of tiny pieces of ash before the rift closed up around the lingering remains.

Someone grabbed her arms and started to move her. Only then did she realize that the floating rocks above them were beginning to fall. Without Corypheus' magic or the Breach to keep it hovering, the island they were on was plummeting. She ran for the nearest cover as the falling rock picked up speed. It was Dorian who had grabbed her, and he shoved her under a partially collapsed staircase and then wrapped his arms around her, his hand on her head. Magic soared up around them and he pulled them into a crouch. In moments, the island slammed back down to earth.

It took some time for the cascade of falling debris to stop pelting Dorian's barrier, but when everything went silent, she shifted in his arms, peering out to see if she could spot any of the others. She saw Solas kneeling just a few feet away. Dorian carefully dropped his barrier and she moved to see what was going on. "Solas?"

"The orb," he said sadly picking up one of the many pieces of the shattered relic.

"Are you sure? We could take the pieces, try to..." She was certain Dagna would be able to figure out how to fix it, if not she could definitely do plenty of experiments to see how it worked and maybe duplicate it.

"That would not recover what has been lost," he said bitterly.

"Inquisitor?" That was Cassandra's voice. "Are you alive?"

Cirilla took one last look at Solas as he set the piece of the orb down before she followed the calling, picking her way through the rubble. When she finally spotted the group of people below, her racing heart soared. At first glance, everyone was accounted for. "Victorious, I see. What a novel result," Morrigan said from the head of the bunch, favoring her right side, but walking on her own two feet, thanks to Vivienne.

"And look at you," Bull said loudly, pushing ahead of Sera. "All not-dead. Nice work, Kadan."

She smiled widely at the bright grin he shot her filled with relief. Morrigan spoke again, smiling as well. "And it seems the Breach is finally closed."

Cirilla glanced up at the sky and it seemed strange to not see the vortex of clouds high above them. The only thing remaining of the Breach was a slash of blue light across the cloudless sky, like a scar on the heavens. "Looks that way," she agreed.

"What do we do now?" Cassandra asked.

Cirilla shrugged. "We go back to Skyhold."

They took their time on the way back, sending runners ahead with the news. They paused in the ruins of Haven to tend their wounds and take stock of their losses, but it was only briefly. When they returned to Skyhold, everyone was gathered in the lower courtyard, a path down the middle allowing them to walk through cheering crowd. Josie, Leliana, and Cullen were waiting for her on the same hexagonal landing where she had accepted the mantle of Inquisitor. As the rest of her friends made their way past toward the main hall she paused before her smiling advisers. They each bowed to her reverently and then Cullen grasped her hand in a firm shake. She briefly rallied the crowd below before Leliana drew her back with a smile. "A moment, my lady." As they headed up the stairs toward the main hall where light music was floating on the air, Leliana said, "My agents have found no trace of Solas. He has simply vanished. If he does not wish to be found, there's likely nothing we can do, but I will keep looking."

Cirilla waved a dismissive hand. She had expected Solas to cut and run ages ago. He had slowly figured out that she really didn't trust him as she had grown closer with the rest of her companions, yet avoided the solarium unless she needed to pass through to go to the rookery. "It's not worth worrying about."

"As you wish, Ciri," Leliana said with a short bow. They passed into the entry way and Leliana continued. "Now that Corypheus has been defeated, we have a moment to stop and celebrate." She indicated the main hall that had been decorated and furnished for a party. It smelled of roasted meat, grilled vegetables, and underneath it all, alcohol, which was already flowing freely it seemed. "Afterwards, you will be busy. Every noble in southern Thedas is clamoring to meet you."

Her voice had turned teasing and Cirilla chuckled, crossing her arms. "Oh, _now_ they're lining up to meet me."

Leliana snickered. "Such is the way of things. Previously you were an upstart, nothing more than a leader of rebels and heretics. Until Corypheus revealed himself, they could not see the single hand behind the chaos. Once he did, they knew... a Magister and a Darkspawn in one creature. The ultimate evil. Now _you_ are the only power left standing. Enjoy the evening while you can, Inquisitor."

Enjoy it she did. The last celebration they had thrown had been interrupted by Corypheus and she had not been able to enjoy herself for the feeling of dread in her gut. She turned down more drinks than she accepted, for the sheer number of them would have had her passing out less than an hour into the night. The one drink she brought someone was the one she brought to Bull. She moved to his side and plopped the cup on the table in front of him. He picked it up, grinning at her. "That was the Tevinter-est Vint in the history of all Vints," he began, placing a hand on her hip and sliding her between him and the table. "The original mold from which subsequent Vints were cast. And I got to help kick the shit out of him. Good times, Boss. Good times."

She shrugged. "There's no one I would've rather had at my side, Bull."

He grinned widely. "Same here. I got to kill another dragon and fight a Vint. Those poor bastards on the ground had demons." He rubbed a hand up her thigh. "It's weird. I joined the Inquisition under orders from the Ben-Hassrath and stayed because Corypheus was an asshole. Now that it's done, I've got no orders. For the first time in my life, I can go wherever I want."

Her stomach knotted up. She bit her lip. "Or you could stay," she suggested.

"Or I could stay," he replied with an adoring smile, the hand around her thigh tightening. "Anyway, the only place I'm going tonight is back for more drinks. To us being alive and the bad buys not!" He gulped down the drink she had brought him and slammed the mug down on the table beside where she sat. "Anaan!" Then he stood, leaning in to briefly nuzzle her neck before heading back to the ale barrels.

While he was up, Sera engaged him, wearing one of the wall hangings like a cape, which she then flapped with her arms. Soon the entire hall was watching as Sera and Bull reenacted the dragon fight. Cirilla chuckled, sipping from her mug, crossing her legs and still sitting on the table. Soon Cullen moved up to lean beside her. She noted the small love bite on his neck and smirked to herself as he sighed. "Am I imagining it, or do we have a moment to breathe?"

She snorted into her mug. "Definitely your imagination. The party, the cake... it's all an elaborate dream."

He laughed. "Maker knows I could use the sleep. You should hear the stories they're telling in the barracks, the pride in their voices. Some of the soldiers have requested leave to return home, but many would follow us still. You are proof that the Inquisition has made a difference. And that we will continue to do so."

She nudged him. "That's why we're having this fancy party. Celebrate, Commander... you've earned it."

He shook his head. "I should be thanking you. You gave me a chance to... to prove myself. In your place, I'm not sure I would have done the same." He sighed when she gave him a look that said he was getting too serious as usual. "I should let you... mingle. I'm sure everyone desires your attention..."

"Speaking of mingling," she teased lightly. "Where's Dorian?"

Cullen's cheeks flushed and he rubbed at his neck, belatedly trying to cover up the love bite. "I... saw him last near the entrance to the Undercroft. Enjoy the party, Inquisitor."

She chuckled as Cullen hurried off, then hopped from the table. Sera was now riding Bull's shoulders, her chest puffed out and a surly expression on her face. "I'm Lord Coryphe-tits," she mocked in a deep, loud voice. "Rawr! I'll grind you to dust."

Cirilla rolled her eyes and sought out Dorian. He saw her first, moving toward her like silk. "I was passing through the hall a moment ago, and a serving girl saw me and squealed," he informed her, hooking her arm to pull her to the middle of one of the cream colored round rugs that lined the hall. He started to twirl her in a dance that she was unfamiliar with, but she fell into step easily, following him as she continued to talk. "_Actually_ squealed. Dropped her laundry and everything. Such a mess. She was completely breathless. 'You were at the battle with the evil one, weren't you?' " He approximated a high pitched voice and she chuckled. He shook his head disapprovingly. "I didn't even get a chance to answer. She hugged me. _Hugged _me. This is your influence," he accused.

She scoffed, allowing him to spin her around. "Admit it. You're having a ball."

He snorted. "I don't trust camaraderie. All these people smiling, buying me drinks... it's unnatural." He shrugged lightly. "Mind you, I can't say I hate the notion of being 'the good Tevinter'..." He approximated another voice that made her giggle. " 'I suppose you can't _all_ be evil bastards.' The blacksmith said that, and he _spat_ when we first met." He sighed as he mused in excitement. "I hope my father hears. He will shit his small clothes from shock, I swear."

"Will you be returning to Tevinter now?" she guessed after the conversation they had after they returned from the Wilds.

"No, actually," he corrected. "I was thinking of sticking around... for a while."

"You will?" she asked teasingly, pursing her lips as if she had known he would.

He rolled his eyes. "Tevinter lacks the presence of my best and only friend. It'll keep."

He spun them to a stop and then kissed her hand, bowing low. "Have you told Cullen the good news, yet?"

"Of course I have, darling," he winked before wandering away to do some more mingling.

She did her own rounds, talking animatedly with everyone. It seemed that mostly everyone had decided to stick around, at least for a little while. After she agreed to a game of Wicked Grace with Varric after things settled down, Sera ran up to her, still wearing her cape. "Finally got a party, yeah? A bit of fun for saving the world?" she shoved a few cakes into Cirilla's hands. "It's the least Andraste's Herald deserves for making things normal again. Except for, you know, everything ever again." She wrinkled her nose. "I mean, is this for us, or for Her? Or, you know, 'Him'? Because I was there, and I still don't know what's real."

"We did this. There's nothing mysterious about how hard it was to save ourselves," Cirilla said, inspecting the cakes Sera had given her before shoving one of the brightly colored ones in her mouth.

"I suppose. Feels weird, though. Nothing out there. I guess you'd know by this point. Seems like you did it right. Mostly." She shrugged and flapped her hands. "Still some things to do yet, right? Because I'm in no hurry to go back to..." she screwed up her face in thought. "Val Royeaux, that's where I was. You mind if people still stay around? For whatever?"

Cirilla gripped Sera's shoulder. "This is home, if you'll have it."

Sera laughed loudly and pushed her hand away. "Shut it, you. I cry, I'm punching everyone! All right, enough of that. Is this a party or what? Raise 'em for winning!" She grabbed a random drink from the table and held it high. "Big frigging heroes, Ciri. All of us." She downed the drink and disappeared as quickly as she had run up on Cirilla, giggling madly.

It was nearing the end of the night and Cirilla was starting to feel some of the little aches and pains that Dorian's careful magic had not been able to reach, as well as her head swimming from the ridiculous amount of alcohol she had imbibed. She finished off the cakes Sera had given her and then started to shuffle toward her quarters so she could get some rest before the Inquisitor was called on again. As she reached the door, Bull's rumbling voice drew her attention. "Hey, Kadan." She turned and leaned back against her door as he moved closer. "I know we talked, but... You got a minute before you do your big thing?"

She smirked deviously. "You almost always last longer than a minute, Bull."

He laughed heartily before putting his hands on her shoulders and pushing her through the door as she turned the handle behind her back, spilling them into her stairwell. He turned her around and kicked the door closed behind him, giving her ass a swift slap to get her moving up the stairs. She climbed the stairs and passed through her room to stand on the balcony, the sun coming up against the backdrop of the snowy peaks. Bull followed her, backing her against the wall where he placed one hand on the wall above her head and the other rested on her hip, pulling her against him even as he pressed her to the wall. He looked down at her with admiration. "You've stood strong against everything. Never flinched. You're the toughest, wisest, most beautiful person I've ever met, Kadan..."as he paused, she allowed her smile to speak for her between his words. "And I can't tell you how proud I'm gonna be, watching you out there, addressing the whole Inquisition..." he leaned in, slowly inhaling a breath against her flesh before he sunk his teeth into the meat of her neck, just hard enough to leave a mark. "With this big, old love bite on your neck." he finished in her ear.

"You ass!" she exclaimed, shoving him away playfully. He chuckled and pulled her back against him, the hand that had been on her waist now beneath her rear. He lifted her off her feet, wrapping her legs around him as he went for her neck again. She hummed in appreciation as heat pooled between her legs. "I think the speech can wait." she gasped.

"Oh, it can wait," he agreed, moving them off the balcony, her in his arms. He dropped her onto the bed and then went to his knees to pull off her trousers. "I'm not going to hurt you tonight, Kadan," he explained, discarding her belt when he wold normally have used it to get her hands out of the way. His voice was low. He ran his hands over her now exposed thighs and gently nudged her legs apart. "You've been through enough in the last few days. Your body needs a rest."

He started with her thighs, kissing and gently biting down, making her writhe as he got ever closer to her core. As he worked on her with his mouth on her flesh, he skillfully unbuttoned her tunic and slipped it from her chest. He reached up and took hold of her breast in one hand and the other slipped beneath her to lift her up off the bed so he had a better angle. She lifted up on her elbows to watch him, and when he plunged his tongue inside her, she threw her head back and moaned, the silky caress of it hardening her nipples beneath his hand and unleashing more moisture below. He nipped and sucked, twirling his tongue in just the right places so she collapsed onto her back. Then, reaching down to grab hold of his horns she slowly began to press into him, making him growl in delight and redouble his efforts. The vibration from his throat drew soft little pleading moans from her mouth. Between one breath and the next, her hands clenched around where she gripped his horns as her muscles spasmed with pleasure. He continued to lap at her as she rode out the orgasm, each new touch drawing it out until it almost hurt. He pulled away then, standing up from his knees, and his pants falling down, having been unbuckled as he worked her. He lifted her beneath the arch of her back and guided her further onto the bed, before climbing atop her and pushing himself inside without so much as a warning. Her nerves lit up again, drawing a groan of pleasure from her throat as the unfinished orgasm surged back to life. "Oh, Sweet Maker," she gasped, reaching up to grip his arms as he pushed deeper and then receded, only to grind back in again. Her muscles clamped tightly around him and as he fought for each inch, he leaned in and started to nuzzle at her throat. She tipped her head, the sound of his voice throwing her into sensory overload.

"Have you been taking that shit the Vint gave you?" he asked, his voice strained.

A moment passed before proper thought swept through her and she nodded into his collar, her own mouth exploring his skin and her teeth finding his earlobe.

"I need to hear it, Kadan," he scolded, the next bite hard enough to clear her mind for a second so she could speak.

"Yes," she choked, gasping around the never ending pleasure.

"Good," he praised, his thrusts going deeper, his pace more urgent. Finally, she felt him push in as far as he could and stop, a grunt escaping him. It was a new sensation to feel him pulse inside her, and she shifted into it, wrapping her legs around his waist and holding him in place while he came, her own mind numbing orgasm finally breaking apart and petering out, leaving her panting beneath him, soaked in sweat. This was definitely the proper way to celebrate their victory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Qunlat translation  
Venak hol: Wearying one  
Parshaara: Enough  
Tal-Imekari: True child (pretty much she is saying 'Don't be a baby')  
Ataash varin kata: In the end lies glory


	17. Once We Were

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of the end

As she had expected, Cirilla's life did not go back to the way it had been before the Breach. Being Inquisitor was much more than just killing Corypheus and calling it a day. All over southern Thedas, there were still scattered rifts and other threats stirred up by the chaos. She remained in Skyhold, working closely at first with Cullen, Leliana, and Josephine, until a month after Corypehus' death, Leliana was named Divine due mostly in part to Cirilla's avid support of the idea.

Cirilla's skills and knowledge of the Game that she had carefully cultivated over the years were now put to use not as a bard, but to try and maintain the peace they had worked so hard for. After two years of arguing with Emperess' and Kings in between trips to settle disputes and close rifts, she almost preferred life on the road hunting down Corypheus. At least she had a clear goal then. Krem had named her an honorary Charger, but she had yet to find the time to even go on a mission with them. Bull would leave every so often for a few weeks to handle a job or two, but when he returned, they would spend hours upon hours locked away in her quarters, testing out the rather impressive collection of toys he would bring back with him as gifts. The chest he had in her room had been replaced once when she realized it was soon going to overflow. Their time together was the relief and release she needed. Time to allow someone else to take charge, to shut down her mind and sometimes her other senses and just _feel_.

They had still not heard anything about Solas, and Cirilla had long ago given up caring. She still felt like he had some ulterior motive. Mother Giselle should have set her sights on him, rather than picking on Dorian. The rest of her people, except for Vivienne, who had immediately returned to the Orlesian court after Corypheus' demise, had stuck around for at least a few months. Sera, much like Bull, had made Skyhold her permanent residence, but would disappear every now and then, doing stuff for the Jennies. When she returned, Cirilla would bake them cookies and they would share them on the roof while Sera told her, in an animated fashion, all about her trip before leaving to find Dagna who she was calling her 'Widdle'. Before leaving to return to Kirkwall, Varric had informed her that his time between funding relief efforts in the city would be spent writing a book in which the working title was 'This Shit is Weird: The Inquisitor Trevelyan Story'. Dorian had stayed longer than any of them, blaming the fact that he didn't want to leave her all alone in Skyhold. But she knew it had less to do with her, and more to do with his growing relationship with Cullen.

In spite of how hectic life was, she felt like she knew where she was supposed to be, even though it was much different from how she had imagined her life might go. Her family had shown up once, not long after Corypheus was killed, and Maker had it been awkward. They had shown up, expecting their daughter to be the fabled Herald of Andraste. They had immediately gravitated to Cullen with his sword of mercy vambraces when he met them formally at her side as the Commander of the Inquisition. Bull had been off on Chargers business at the time, so to take the pressure off him as Cullen awkwardly tried to explain that they were not involved, Dorian had swooped in and informed her quite loudly that her lover was due back that afternoon, and then introduced himself as he usually did with a flourish and proud announcement of his origins. Cirilla thought her mother might faint as her father scowled with disapproval. Their stay had been short lived and full of that same disheartened expression as they learned more and more about what she had been doing with her life. When Bull actually had returned, she had needed a bit of special treatment to help her get over that level of stress.

For two whole years, Leliana managed to keep the lions and dogs from nipping at the Inquisition's heels, but it seemed that even she could only do so much. It had been a few months since Cirilla had last seen anyone, so she was riding to the Winter Palace with only a compliment of soldiers and Cullen and Josephine at her back to attend the Exalted Council. The Winter Palace itself was no longer such a dazzling thing as it had been the first time she had seen it. She had visited so many times in the last few years that she was starting to notice the minute little things that simply didn't seem like anyone cared to maintain. The Palace was in a constant state of remodeling as the styles changed with the seasons. Even so, the Game still invigorated her as much as picking up her instruments and playing for an audience. She had taken Dorian's advice around Skyhold, setting aside time whenever she could to go out and brighten the courtyard with her songs.

Her horse was decked out in almost as much finery as she was. Josephine had insisted she present herself formally, commissioning another of the Inquisition uniforms in her size. Cirilla would have preferred her own clothing and a simple mask, but she understood the need, not complaining when Josephine handed over the jacket and her freshly polished mask from the Duchess' ball. "Another parade, another bloody negotiation..." Cullen grumbled, shifting in his saddle and sneering beneath his own mask.

“Smiles, everyone,” Josie reminded them. “We must be careful how we present ourselves.”

“Why did Divine Victoria call the Exalted Council? She's kept Orlais from bothering us for the last two years,” Cullen murmured.

“At increasing political cost, yes,” Josie sighed. Cirilla had read Leliana's letters and the situation looked dismal. They were being circled like chum in the water. She glanced to either side of her where representatives from Orlais and Ferelden had congregated to watch them parade into the Palace entry. “She has done all she can, but the Exalted Council has become necessary. Orlais would control us. And based on their _many_ marriage proposals, they have specific plans for you.” Cirilla saw Cullen's lip curl back in disdain and snickered softly to herself. Every time they came to Orlais, Cullen was swarmed by unwanted inquiries into his personal life. “Our real concern is Ferelden. They would see us disbanded entirely.”

Cirilla was certain that she didn't want the Inquisition to be controlled or disbanded, but she might not have a choice if this went badly. Almost as soon as she passed through the Winter Palace gates, her palm started to tingle. She ignored the sudden reaction of the mark, not wishing to show any sort of weakness in front of all the delegates in the immediate vicinity. "Where is the Council being held, Josephine?" she asked calmly.

"In one of the open air rooms off the gardens in the Royal Wing," Josephine informed her. "If you wish to get a look at the Chambers before we get locked in for days, do so now. Come tomorrow morning, you will want to be prepared for what we face."

Cirilla nodded. "I think that's wise," she said, patting Josephine's arm and smiling. "I'll see you soon."

She made her way toward the Palace and found the Chambers easily enough. The farther into the Royal wing she got, the more her hand became a nuisance. When she reached the Chambers, before she even had much of a chance to look around beyond the tall statues decorating the pillars, the raised dais where the Council would sit, the multiple trappings hanging from the walls and rippling gently in the breeze, and the few other chairs in a semi circle behind a narrow table with two chairs behind it facing the dais, the mark crackled briefly with magic, trailing an uncomfortable sensation up her forearm. She lifted her hand to frown at it, but a voice sounded behind her and she closed her fist around the magic and snapped around to see Mother Giselle approaching.

“How have you been, Mother Giselle?” she asked kindly in response to Giselle's greeting, smiling through the tingling that was creeping up her arm.

“I spent the last summer in Emprise Du Lion, distributing food sent from the Exalted Plains. The Dales are finally recovering,” she said in her familiar thick accent.

Cirilla crossed her arms, tucking the mark behind her other arm so she could chuckle and turn fully to face Giselle. “Since Corypheus fell, I think you may have spent more time traveling than I have.”

Mother Giselle conceded with a nod. “It keeps me out of trouble, Your Worship. I should mention that your forces at Suledin Keep were of great help. Please give my compliments to Baron DeJardins.” She quickly changed the subject. “Divine Victoria asked me to greet you on her behalf. She is currently attending to the Ferelden Ambassador's concerns.”

“How do you think Divine Victoria has done these last two years?” Cirilla only received word from Leliana who had a way of making everything sound like peaches and cream. She knew that in reality, her revisions to the Chantry had caused quite a fuss.

“Its hardly for me to say, Inquisitor,” Mother Giselle said evasively.

Cirilla's brow rose in disbelief. “With respect, Mother Giselle, that's never stopped you before.”

Giselle sighed. “Victoria has proven adept at winning allies with both her intelligence and her faith. It is a blessing in these trying times. We are lucky to have her.” That was a rehearsed statement and it made Cirilla nervous.

“I'll speak to Divine Victoria,” Cirilla said with a nod, hoping to get out of the room and find Leliana. She hadn't seen her former spymaster in ages, and she missed her. Writing letters was just not the same as hearing another person's voice.

“I believe she would appreciate that, Your Worship,” Mother Giselle said with a nod. “The Divine sees the good that you can do, and have done. Duke Cyril will wish to greet you on behalf of Orlais. I believe he is currently speaking with the Tevinter Ambassador. Many of your friends have returned as well. I hope you have a chance to speak with them before the Exalted Council begins.”

Cirilla balked. “The Imperium sent an Ambassador?”

Mother Giselle smirked deviously. “Yes, Your Worship. Dorian Pavus has taken the chance to return from Tevinter. It will be good to see him again. I owe him my apology. I allowed my distrust of Tevinter to cloud my judgment. He took a great risk coming to help us, and deserved better treatment.”

On top of her excitement to see Dorian, she chuckled. “You're going to apologize? To Dorian?”

Mother Giselle scowled at Cirilla's amusement. “I have little patience for those who cannot admit they were wrong, Your Worship. Myself included... I will have to make my apology somewhere public. He will want an audience for his reaction.”

Mother Giselle certainly knew Dorian well. Cirilla chuckled again, shaking her head. She was glad to hear that some of her other friends had returned as well. Perhaps she might have a chance to unwind before getting trapped in a room with angry nobles. “Thank you, Mother Giselle.”

“Your Worship, a final question, if I may. This Exalted Council... Ferelden would have the Inquisition disband. Orlais sees its power as another feather in a chevalier's helmet. What do _you_ wish to do with the Inquisition?”

Cirilla had been pondering that very same question for weeks, since they had first heard about the Exalted Council. What _did_ she want? “The Inquisition still has work to do. We can't let someone's fear push us into disbanding,” she said with determination. The Inquisition had done so much good. It needed to continue.

“Then I wish you luck in the negotiations to come. Maker watch over you, Inquisitor. I will not keep you any longer.” Mother Giselle said before allowing Cirilla to leave and head back out into the sunshine. Cirilla kept her fist balled around the mark as it throbbed weakly. What in the Void was going on with the Anchor? She had been in control of it for years, now suddenly, it was going to act up?

Before she made it back to the gardens, she shoved down the discomfort and put her best smile on. Too many people were watching. She hunted down familiar faces. She hadn't received word from anyone that they were coming, She found Varric first and he seemed overly excited to see her, making a fuss over greeting her and walking away from the man who had been talking to him. Varric looked the same, aside from a few more crinkles of stress around his eyes. "Inquisitor! Andraste's ass, am I ever glad to see you!"

She knelt to accept the friendly hug he offered and chuckled. "And the Inquisitor comes to the rescue once again."

"Is that what you call it?" the man that Varric had ditched said sourly, crossing his arms. He was dressed in a fine tunic in a powder blue and it contrasted with his flaming red hair.

Varric sighed and rolled his eyes. "This is Bran Cavin. Until recently, he was the viscount..."

"_Provisional _Viscount," he sniffed, correcting Varric.

"Of Kirkwall," Varric finished in a mutter.

"And what are you doing now?" Cirilla asked Bran with a grin at Varric.

"I have resumed my post as Seneschal now that Master Tethras has been elected Viscount," Bran explained.

Varric cringed as she whipped her head around to stare at him in shock. "You're the Viscount of Kirkwall now?"

Bran sniffed again. "Well, it seems the two of you have a great deal to discuss. Why don't I just leave you to it?"

Varric watched him move off to the side where he stood, clearly close enough to hear what they were saying. "So... It turns out, you fund enough reconstruction efforts in a city-state, the nobles give you the worst job they can think of."

"I might need to sit down," she teased. "You're the ruler of Kirkwall now? All of it?"

Varric waved her off, scoffing. "That's not that big a deal. I have a really pointy crown that I wouldn't be caught dead wearing, but that's it. They voted me in because I got the harbor and businesses up and running again. They want shit fixed, and I can do that." He shuffled his feet, glancing at Bran before continuing with a grin. "Anyway, I was hoping I'd catch you before the summit got underway. I got you a sort of present." He fished in his pocket and pulled out a rolled parchment stamped with Kirkwall's seal. "Its official recognition of your title and holdings in Kirkwall. Congratulations! You're a comtesse now."

Bran rushed over in a flurry. "You can't actually do that without..."

"Too late!" Varric interrupted. "Already did it." Then he returned his gaze to her and talked as if Bran were not even there. "You should stop by Hightown some time to see your estate. It's pretty nice! For Kirkwall, anyway."

Bran sighed, rubbing his brow. "Proper disposition of empty estates is supposed to..."

Varric interrupted him again. "You were leaving us to talk, remember?"

Bran waved a frustrated hand and sighed as he moved away again. Cirilla watched him and then set a curious look on Varric. "What brought all this on? I'm pretty sure it's not Give Your Friends Lavish Titles Day."

He chuckled. "What kind of Viscount would I be if I didn't abuse my position to give shit to my friends? I've got traditions to uphold! Oh, that reminds me..." he went in his pockets again and produced a large ornate key, handing it to her. "It's the key to the city."

Cirilla snorted as Bran came running over again. "You can't give that away without approval from the council and a special ceremony! It..."

Varric shrugged. "It's just symbolic anyway."

Bran scowled. "It controls one of the giant chain nets in the harbor," he hissed.

"Really?" Varric asked with a raised brow before he burst out laughing. "That... is so much better than I thought."

Cirilla laughed as well. "This operates those giant chains? Can I try it?"

"No!" Bran said with wide eyes.

Varric moved in front of him and took her elbow. "I don't know how this council thing is going to end for the Inquisition. But whatever gets decided, you've got a place lined up in Kirkwall if you want it. Also... control of the harbor, I guess." He released her arm and smiled again. "Anyway, you should meet with the diplomats. We'll get in a game of Wicked Grace before I go back, though, right?"

"I wouldn't miss it," she said, returning his smile.

"Don't bet any public buildings this time," Bran warned.

Varric shooed her and she followed the gardens to where several people had gathered. It was a small meeting place that looked like it was normally a cafe, but for the Exalted Council, it was doubling as a tavern of sorts. Music filtered from around the corner, and when she approached, she saw Maryden strumming her lute. Cole was also hovering near a table beneath a squat awning outside the cafe. He leaned in and spoke to the man sitting at the table, and the man got up, abandoning the table. Cole smiled sweetly as she approached him. They chatted briefly, while he sprinkled the table with breadcrumbs for birds, before Maryden took a break from her strumming and Cirilla realized from their interactions that Cole had himself a girlfriend. It made her happy to see him happy. He had come so far and she liked to think that she had been a large influence on him after he had turned human. He had spent a lot of time emulating her after Corypheus died, learning his place in the world.

Soon after, Sera spotted her and ran at her emphatically. "Here's you!" She hugged Cirilla tightly. "And everyone! Glad to be back, all stuffed together. With the pressure full on. Again. Don't worry, 'Herald of Everywhere'. I came prepared. I know what everyone needs." Sera dragged her through the Palace, setting up a number of silly harmless pranks before pulling her back to the cafe, giggling.

"I expected a roof," Cirilla chuckled breathlessly as they both flopped into seats across a table from each other.

"It's early," Sera shrugged. "Anyway, that was a good run. It's all been a good run. I needed that, and I need..." she looked down, her eyes shifting nervously. "You know it's ending, right? We can say it won't, but nobs in places like this? All they _do_ is end things. They'll try a leash... or worse. But maybe you aren't ready to quit just because some 'Lord Piddlebits' is scared of us?"

"Do I seem like I'm ready to retire?" Cirilla asked, lounging in her seat.

"_I'm_ tired!" she giggled. "I've never done anything for _years_. Point is, sooner or _sooner_, all this changes. And you've helped me understand... too much. So it's my turn to help you." As she continued, men and women approached the table, dropping red badges on its surface and walking away again. "See, I have these friends. And all of them were the wrong sort of whatever. Their place changed, or it never was. So together we made an 'us'. Everyone needs an 'us'. And when the world is done saying no and calls you the wrong sort of whatever, maybe we can be that 'us' for you?" Sera was grinning widely as a young blonde woman with her hair pulled back in a tail and dressed all in black came to crouch beside her chair and scrutinize Cirilla with narrowed brown eyes and a mischievous smirk. "What do you think, Inquisitor? Want to run some rooftops as a Jenny?"

Cirilla was both honored and shocked. "You want 'the Inquisitor'? Don't I have a few more titles than your usual Jenny?" She looked at the crouching woman and smirked. "No offense."

"Some taken," she purred with a sardonic smile.

"Pfft," Sera waved it off. "Words. Look, we don't want you, we want to be there _for_ you. If you want to keep _doing_, it won't be nobles who help. It'll be _friends_."

Cirilla nodded excitedly. "Well, all I have to say is call me 'Red frigging Jenny'."

Sera snorted her approval as the blonde eyed her with her same smirk. "Way too confusing. You'll get a city. One that rhymes with 'arse'."

Sera nudged her and snorted again. "Oh! I should have said we needed 'a we' instead of 'an us', because... wait! Anus?" She laughed out loud and shook her head. "So stupid."

Cirilla couldn't help her own laugh, picking up the drink in front of her and saying, "To all my friends."

"Always and ever, Ciri. Always and ever," Sera agreed, slamming their mugs together before downing her drink.

Before their pranks, Cirilla had not seen any trace of Bull or the Chargers. Sometimes his assignments would run long, but it had worried her since she hadn't heard from him in a few weeks and he had been gone for months. When she spotted Krem pacing near the bar, she excused herself and Sera giggled, still downing drinks. She approached Bull's nervous looking lieutenant, wondering what was amiss. "Your Worship!" Krem leaned in and hugged her in greeting. In spite of her practically begging him to not call her that, the nickname had stuck, likely more out of teasing than out of actual reverence. Bull had likely put him up to it. "I'm glad you're here." He pulled her to the side. "Listen, I need you to keep the Chief distracted while we sneak this dragon skull through the room behind him." He tipped his head toward a large skull just outside one of the side doors.

Relieved to hear Bull was in one piece, she nodded. "Got it."

"It's for his birthday," Krem reminded her as if she had forgotten.

"Didn't ask, Krem," she sighed.

Krem's eyes widened. "All right, here he comes. Just keep him talking. He loves talking."

She snickered as Krem patted her arm and jogged toward the exit. She turned and caught sight of Bull moving fluidly through the small space with a huge grin on his face. "Kadan!" he knelt, wrapping his huge arms around her waist and lifted her off the ground in a warm bear hug. After capturing her lips briefly, he set her down again and led her to a pair of stools by the bar. "Made time for a drink?"

After months of not seeing him, with the pressure of everything happening in the Inquisition and the added pressure to keep him occupied for Krem, her mind went blank. She sat, staring at him as his brow rose and grasped for the first topic that came to mind. "It's good to see that the Veil has largely healed, now that most of the major rifts are closed." When he simply stared at her, she rambled on. "You might think otherwise, but the Veil isn't technically a physical barrier. It's more like a magical vibration that repels the Fade."

"Hmm..." he hummed, glancing away from her and taking a sip from the drink that he had ordered with a finger after they sat.

She took up her own drink and swallowed a large gulp, shaking off the awkwardness. It was strange seeing him after so long and not being able to fall straight into bed and save the talking for after. Regaining her composure, she leaned in and purred quietly, "You know. I've been asking around about new equipment for... us. There's a merchant in Val Royeaux who sells these silver rods with little cuffs that work like stocks."

He hooked his foot around her stool and pulled her closer to him. "I prefer knot work myself. Knots are easier to adjust... and more intimate. But if it's stocks you want, you're worth it. Maybe the merchant will throw in some clamps, too!" he suggested with a devious smirk.

She allowed her eyes to wander along his chest before she flicked them toward where Krem and the rest of the Chargers were still struggling with the skull. She opened her mouth in a few false starts before she buried her face in her hands and sighed heavily. "I'm sorry, I can't do this..."

Bull nudged her and chuckled. "Sure you can! They must have that thing almost across the room by now, right?" She lifted her head and looked at him with her mouth agape. He grinned and whispered. "Ben-Hassrath, remember?"

"Surprise!" Krem shouted, him and the Chargers gathered around the skull. Happy Birthday, Chief!"

Bull stood with a grunt and turned to look at them with an excited smile. "Oh, you guys! You got me!" he said convincingly before he turned to Cirilla with a knowing wink.

Without Bull egging her on to grasp for ridiculous conversation, her nerves settled and they fell into their usual flirtatious banter, catching each other up on the goings on in the last few months. Normally they would do this lying naked beside each other, but she could cope with the public setting. She was just glad to see him, in any capacity.

Reluctantly, she left the tavern to do her duty and find the other people she was meant to talk to. When she found Cassandra, the warrior startled much like she had when Cirilla had caught her reading Varric's book. "Ahh!" she gasped before looking embarrassed.

"Is everything all right?" Cirilla asked with a teasing lilt that she loved to use on Cassandra. It always got her all fired up.

"Yes!" she shifted her eyes. "Well, I... wanted to talk to you. And now you're here."

Cirilla blinked, wondering why Cassandra was acting so shifty. “Should I leave and come back later so you can try again?”

Cassandra pursed her lips. “Always with clever suggestions.” She shifted from one foot to the other, her silver plated formal armor winking in the sun. "Maybe you should sit."

Cirilla shook her head warily. "I can stand."

Cassandra gaped for a moment before changing the suggestion. "Maybe _I_ should sit. She moved to settle herself on the edge of a stone bench along the wall where she had been pacing when Cirilla approached. Cirilla followed, sitting on the opposite side of the bench. "Cirilla, I want you to know that I am your friend. I will always be your friend."

"Oh," Cirilla began. "Well, that's..."

"So I hope to give you sound advice on this momentous day." Cassandra barreled forward, not allowing Cirilla to finish her thought. She was smiling now, which calmed the nervous flutter in Cirilla's chest. "Do what is in your heart, my friend. No matter what anyone might tell you." She reached out and took Cirilla's hand reassuringly.

"That's... a lovely sentiment, Cassandra," Cirilla returned, not certain she had not missed the first half of this conversation.

Cassandra drew back. "Marriage is much more than a 'lovely sentiment', Cirilla!" she scolded.

"Marriage?" It was Cirilla's turn to look shocked.

Cassandra shook her head. "I can't even begin to imagine what they will make of a Qunari consort, but if..." With the look of pure shock on Cirilla's face, Cassandra stopped mid sentence and frowned. "You're not proposing. To anyone." She stood and growled, balling her fists. "I am going to kill Varric. Why do I believe everything he says? _Why_?"

Cirilla chuckled. "He said I was going to propose?"

Cassandra dropped her angered stance and scratched at her head. "He... mentioned a proposal. I suppose I filled in the blanks. Or he did this on purpose. That dwarf gets entirely too much joy from my discomfort."

Cirilla couldn't help but snigger again as she stood as well. "You're adorable."

Cassandra turned and laughed. "There are far worse things to be." Then she sighed still smiling. "Being Inquisitor has brought you good things. Many good things. But only a few have been by your choice. Take what happiness you can from those, and do not let them go. That is all I meant to say. Advice from a friend, for the days to come."

They shared a hug and then Cassandra let her go. She wandered the gardens in search of some of the others. She took a few moments with Blackwall, then found Cullen arguing with a Mabari about dodging a ball instead of fetching it. She wondered if he had seen Dorian yet. She had yet to find him, but she still had the garden's spa to explore. When she finally found him, he was standing in front of Duke Cyril. Cirilla knew the Duke only by reputation. Dorian had his arms crossed and he looked mildly annoyed, his upper lip curled back until he glanced over the Duke's shoulder and spotted her. She wiggled her fingers in greeting and he practically shoved the Duke out of the way. "But you'll have to excuse me! I see an old friend I must greet." He approached her with his arms wide. "Cirilla! How long has it been? Don't actually tell me, I despise feeling old." He wrapped her in his familiar embrace, scented with woodsmoke and parchment and kissed her cheek. "It's good to see you, my friend."

She pulled back smiling widely as his grey eyes sparkled with excitement. "You arrived ahead of me. I hope all's well."

"It's everything I expected," he flourished his hands outwards. "We've been spared the burden of surprise. Orlais wants the Inquisition tamed, Ferelden wants it gone, the Chantry meddles, and Tevinter sends but one ambassador." He set his fingertips on his chest. "That's me, by the way. A 'reward for my interest in the South'." He continued to grin at her when he took her hands. "Thankfully, 'Ambassador Pavus' is a token appointment. Call on me as you like." He kissed her cheek one last time before allowing Duke Cyril to approach her.

He was wearing formal armor very similar to the set that Gaspard had worn to the Grand Masquerade. His mask depicted simple eye holes, the bottom lids raised up to make it look like it was smiling. Beneath the segmented and pointed nose, a brass mustache stuck out wide to both sides. The entire mask was mounted to a helm with a large red feather on the top. The Duke bowed low. "Inquisitor, Duke Cyril Montfort, member of the Council of Heralds and Lord of Chateau Haine. I have long followed your work. It is extraordinary." She took a moment to wonder if he was referring to her work as Inquisitor, or it his definition of 'long' stretched further back.

"Is that sentiment shared by the rest of the Court?" she asked carefully.

He laughed lightly, his voice like a bell. "Of course! Orlais wishes only to offer respectful guidance to the Inquisition."

"Does Your Grace feel the Inquisition should continue to rule itself?" she wondered cheekily as she crossed her arms.

He pursed his lips. "I would rather see the Inquisition join us freely than be carved into pieces for the chessboard. I have not forgotten Justinia's death. I had friends who perished at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. More than the good you have done, it is the good we may do together I don't wish to lose. Whatever happens, Inquisitor, I wish you well."

He bowed out of the conversation and on the opposite side of the balconies where the stood, she saw Leliana in her ridiculous Chantry robes, talking with a man that Cirilla recognized as the Arl of Redcliffe, Teagan Guerrin. He had a large hooked nose, and features that spoke of a once handsome man that the years had not been kind to. He wore a typical Ferelden tunic topped with a striped hauberk tucked in a belt. The hat on his head was also typically Ferelden. She would not have been surprised in the least if he smelled of wet dog when you got close, even though she knew he probably didn't.

“Divine Victoria, am I interrupting?”

Leliana turned a bright smile on Cirilla, her eyes flicking curiously over her person. “Of course not, Inquisitor. I was catching up with Redcliffe's Arl. He is here to represent Ferelden in the Summit.”

“Inquisitor. Good to meet you,” the Arl said with a short tip of his head coupled with a scowl that he quickly tried to hide. His face was weathered and dry, making her think that he had seen a lot in his time.

“How are things in Redcliffe, my lord?” Cirilla asked, her own bow equally short.

“Blessedly quiet. The mayor conveys his greetings. Redcliffe remembers it's savior,” he said.

Cirilla nodded. “I had hoped to steal a moment of the Divine's time...” she said, glancing back at Leliana.

“Very well. We'll continue this later, Your Perfection,” Teagan bowed low to Leliana and left them alone.

Leliana smiled widely and put both hands on Cirilla's shoulders. She pulled her inwards to kiss both her cheeks in a traditional Orlesian greeting between old friends. After looking her over again, Leliana sighed. “Many fear the Inquisition's power, but I will do all I can to allay their fears.”

Cirilla snorted, crossing her arms. “When world powers want to 'discuss plans for the future', I get nervous.”

“Good. Someone should keep you on your toes. We don't want you to get bored, Inquisitor,” Leliana said with a smirk. “I have much to do, but let me say this, I may no longer be your spymaster, but I am always here if you require.” Cirilla bowed to Leliana with a smile and the former spymaster winked at her slyly as she walked away.

The Arl jumped at the opportunity as soon as she was alone. “I'm glad you've finally arrived, Inquisitor. The crown's anxious for news.”

“And your thoughts on Ferelden's position?” Cirilla asked, already knowing the answer from the glare he had fixated on her and from Josephine's reports, but she wished to hear it from the horse's mouth.

“The Breach is long gone, yet Skyhold's army remains. Ferelden can't continue to ignore soldiers on it's borders,” he grumbled, predictably.

Cirilla took in a deep breath and remained as politically adept as she could. “The Inquisition _has_ grown. I can see how it's presence might cause concern.”

“Then you understand why we must demand a reduction of your military forces. A power without allegiance to either Ferelden or Orlais? Even I see neither of our countries can let it rest...” Cirilla felt her own scowl forming and the Arl must have noticed it, even with her mask in place. She licked her lips in an attempt to reshape them from their pursed position. “I won't keep you longer. We'll have words enough when the Exalted Council begins.”

There was not even a bow before he walked off, not that she felt she deserved it. But she had grown accustomed to it happening everywhere she went. She trudged off the balcony and headed back toward the tavern area. The company was certainly more lively there. She never made it that far when just outside the garden spa, she spotted a group of her friends gathered. She approached to see what all the fuss was about. Sera sat on a cushioned bench, a cup in her hands. Varric was standing in the middle of the others, his glass slightly raised. Cole stood to the rear staring quizzically into his own cup, Bull was passed out near Sera's bench and Dorian stood looking rather put out near the bench opposite Sera's. What in the Maker's name had gotten Bull so sloshed that quickly? It hadn't been that long since she had left him in the tavern. But then it was his birthday.

“As the most eloquent dwarf you know, Sparkles...” Varric said loudly.

Sera interrupted, raising her cup and slurring, “Speech! Speech! Way too much speech...” then she downed her drink, sneering.

“Varric, there's really no need...” Dorian said hastily as he saw her approaching.

“What's going on?” Cirilla asked with a smirk as she held up a hand and shook her head when Sera offered her a cup. As much as she might like to join them, she needed to keep a clear head, and she was already getting a headache from whatever the Anchor was doing.

“Ribbons! You're just in time!” Varric exclaimed, then he returned his attention to Dorian. “Sparkles. The Imperium doesn't deserve you. Or want you. It may even kill you, but _we'll_ miss you... If it counts.” Cirilla glanced in shock at Dorian who apologized with his eyes before turning a scowl in Varric and bristling. “Aaaaand you didn't know. Okay folks, time to take the party elsewhere.” The others left without a word, glancing awkwardly between Dorian and Cirilla. Varric made to leave then noticed Bull was still passed out by the bench, muttering and snoring. At a loss, he waved his hand “Err, leave him.”

When Varric disappeared from the courtyard, Dorian sighed, setting his cup on the short table between the benches and moved away from her, his back to her as he shuffled his feet. Was he truly leaving again? He had just gotten back.”It's... true,” he said with a sigh as she approached. “When the Exalted Council has ended, I'm going back to Tevinter...” he turned on her, his eyes glistening. “For good this time.”

“You know I'll miss you,” she said breathing in a ragged breath and trying not to cry. He truly was one of her best friends. The thought of never seeing him again was terrifying.

“Naturally,” he sniffed, brushing his own cheeks. Her lip quivered and she bit back her sob, as he continued. “My father is dead. Assassinated, I believe. I received notice this morning. A perversely cheerful letter congratulating me on assuming his seat in the Magisterium... We only met a few times while I was home. He didn't say anything about keeping me as his heir. This 'ambassadorship'... his doing, I'm told. He must have wanted me away when the trouble began. I _have _to go back.”

Cirilla frowned slightly and crossed her arms. "How does Cullen feel about this?"

"He _wants_ to come with me," Dorian admitted with a sigh. "Could you imagine the reaction to our dear Commander trying to punch his way through the Magisterium? I don't want him hurt. He doesn't want me hurt. We're working it out."

Cirilla didn't know what to say as she swallowed the sadness welling in her gut. “I know it was complicated, but... I'm sorry about your father.”

“Thank you,” he said softly before hugging her gently. “It still doesn't feel real.”

She comforted him with her arms for a minute before pulling away and drawing in a breath. “So, you'll truly be a Magister?”

He snorted and crossed his arms again. “Oh, yes. I can't wait to degrade the Magisterium with my presence! A new outfit is required.”

“And then what?” she asked with a short chuckle.

He shrugged. “I find my father's killers and kill them back. Then I find those giving Tevinter a bad name and kill them. They're most likely the same people, so that should make the job easier.”

“You'll need help. I could join you...” she said without thinking. Him against Tevinter all alone terrified her.

He shook his head and smiled grimly. “Not this time, my friend... I won't be entirely without support. Maevaris has gathered other Magisters who feel as we do.” She remembered him mentioning Maevaris on occasion. She was apparently a very powerful mage and a good friend, in spite of his insistence that Cirilla was his only friend. “We'll be an actual faction in the Magisterium. I'll teach them manners, take them shopping, It'll be fun!”

“You don't have to go back, Dorian. You put it behind you, you still could,” she pleaded one last time, grabbing hold of his hands.

He clucked his tongue. “Give up a golden opportunity for martyrdom? Perish the thought!” She felt the color drain from her face at his joke. It must have been visible because he gripped her hands tighter and moved to sit her on one of the benches and he joined her, their knees touching. "A present," he said, fishing in his pocket with a reassuring grin. "A going-away present." He pulled out a small locket and popped it open. Inside was a small crystal, barely larger than her thumbnail. "It's a sending crystal. Amazing what friendship with the Inquisition gives you access to." He reached over and draped the golden chain around her neck and she picked it up to examine it. "If I get in over my head, or you're overwhelmed with sorrow for lack of my velvety voice... _magic_!" He touched his finger affectionately to the tip of her nose, making her giggle and playfully shove his shoulder. "What... You didn't think I would just leave and you'd never hear from me again, did you?" He moved closer and took her hands, dislodging the crystal and letting it dangle from the chain against her doublet. "You are my dearest friend, perhaps my only friend. That will never change, no matter where we are." She dislodged his hands and threw herself into his arms a few tears actually escaping. He clucked his tongue again but this time in empathy. She laughed at her own silliness and in spite of where she was, pulled her mask from her face to brush her cheeks dry. He nudged her with a painted on smirk. "Now let's finish the good wine before the others get back."

She chuckled again, regaining her composure and fitting her mask back to her face. Then she clicked the locket closed around the crystal and tucked it beneath her clothing beside her dragon's tooth. "I'm not sure I can handle the good wine if it sent him under the table," she said, indicating Bull.

Dorian laughed loudly, one of his single note barks, and then waved a hand. "I assure you, the Bull has been having far too much fun elsewhere. He followed Sera over here already stumbling."

After allowing Dorian to talk her into a single drink, she left him to look after Bull for her and went to find Leliana to greet her properly without the eyes of Arl Teagan on them. On the way, she skirted Vivienne, but apparently not well enough. She was dragged by the elbow into the bathhouse. "Darling, you made it! Excellent! I scheduled this appointment ages ago, and they do appreciate punctuality."

"Appointment? She asked as Vivienne pushed her onto a chaise and settled herself across from her on a lounger of her own.

"With the Imperial Gardens Spa, of course! You work so hard, my dear. I wanted to treat you," Vivienne said, her hand outstretched so she could examine her nails.

Cirilla glanced around awkwardly. "I'm not really a spa kind of person, Vivienne."

Vivienne arched a brow at Cirilla beneath her hennin. "Darling, that is precisely why you so desperately need this appointment." With that, Vivienne turned to lounge back in the seat and a pair of attendants approached them both, offering tiny cheese wheels that they explained went over her eyes.

The appointment lasted an hour, in which Vivienne tried to weasel all sorts of gossip from Cirilla. When it was over, Cirilla begged her leave and hurried from the bathhouse. Relieved to be back in the sun, which was not long to remain above the horizon, Cirilla returned to her original goal. She found Leliana near the bathhouse, flanked by a pair of formal guards. Cirilla remembered when she had met Justinia at the Conclave, the guards had been templars. Leliana's looked to be mages. It was an interesting statement from the Divine. Cirilla smiled at the cunning. Leliana's own smile dazzled from beneath her silly hat. Why the Divine had to wear such horrid vestments, Cirilla would never guess. It was definitely not complimentary to Leliana's figure.

"Will you walk with me?" she asked pleasantly, shooing her guards to remain posted as she tucked her hands behind her back and walked at a casual pace. "The first time I came to the Winter Palace, I was only eighteen. I was dazzled. Such rich hangings. Splendid marble columns. More golden lions than I could count," she stopped them near a fountain to gaze up at the facade that she was describing. "It's all still here. Still bright. But I no longer see that same palace."

Cirilla had just been thinking the same thing as they approached, had she not? She looked up as well and sighed. "Everything changes. People most of all."

"Yes," Leliana agreed sadly. "Now all I see are hands rubbed raw to make gold gleam. Tears shed in the night over silk embroidery. Others overlook them and forget their pain, but I am Divine, and I cannot be blind." She shifted position so she was looking up at the balconies where Duke Cyril and Arl Teagan sat. "They seek to tear the Inquisition down. You feel it, no? Fear," Leliana said quietly.

Cirilla nodded. The tension was swirling around in her gut. "I'd fear anyone with our vault of secrets. Wouldn't you?"

"It is not our secrets, nor our soldiers," Leliana pointed out. "There have always been spymasters and private armies. They are afraid of nothing so much as the hand that directs it all."

Cirilla looked down at her own hands, the Anchor still throbbing uncomfortably. "Mine."

Leliana nodded gravely. "Already, your actions have begun to reshape Thedas. Your influence is felt everywhere. It was only a matter of time before they moved. I'm surprised it took this long. The Inquisition's time is coming to an end."

Cirilla couldn't help her smirk, even with the uneasy news. "Is that the degree of Her Perfection Divine Victoria? That the Inquisition be dissolved?"

Leliana frowned slightly through her smile. "As Divine, it is my duty to think of Thedas... and all her peoples. We set out to restore peace. And now peace is upon us. Some things can only be accomplished in shadow, without the trappings of power and the attention they bring. But whatever you decide, I will be honored to stand beside you."

They returned to Leliana's guards and the Divine was happy to gush about the litter of nugs that had been born from her growing collection. It seemed to be her new hobby since having to put away her knives. Cirilla was glad to see Leliana flourishing as Divine. She had been the right choice.

The hour grew late, and Cirilla was almost late in meeting Josephine for her surprise, which happened to be a night at the Opera. It had been ages since Cirilla had been able to attend the Orlesian Opera, and she had a fantastic time with Josephine, getting to see a side of the ambassador that she didn't get to see often. Relaxed. It allowed Cirilla to set aside her own concerns, if only for a few hours.

When she came out, Bull was waiting for her with his usual post separation grin that meant trouble. It was well past midnight, which meant no one was watching. He scooped her up and had her direct him to the room they had given her for the duration of the Council. "I've been away for a few months, and you look a bit tired, Kadan. So I'll let you steer tonight," he offered, nudging her door open and ducking inside. "What are you in the mood for?"

With the aching in her arm which seemed to be getting slowly worse, she really didn't think she wanted to be restricted, so when he set her on her feet, she backed away slowly and grinned, looking at him with her chin tipped down and her lashes batting. He watched her with lust, but made no move until she clearly let him know what she wanted. She started in on the buttons on her doublet, opening it up to reveal her complete lack of anything beneath save her breast-band. Then she shrugged it off, letting it fall to the floor. "I trust you can handle your own clothing?" she teased, pulling her belt loose. Bull snickered and continued to watch her undress as he also made his way out of his clothing.

Once they had stripped, Bull's eye roved up and down her as she approached him. He stood on display, waiting. When she lifted her right hand and traced it along the tattoos on his left shoulder, down around his pectorals and then back up the other side before circling around behind him and allowing her hands to trail downwards, he slowly began to rise with her attention. When her fingers slid lightly over the rounded top of his ass, he growled and said warningly. "That tickles, Kadan."

She knew that of course, and did it on purpose, circling back around to stand before him. "I have missed this body," she purred. She reached down, cupping his balls gently before using her opposite hand to take hold of him, feeling his reaction in her palm. "I think I want to remember how it feels for you to come inside after we've made love for hours."

"Slow and gentle it is," he said in agreement, finally moving his arms and pulling her flush to his body.

She laid sleepily beside him after they finished, her head on his chest like it was a pillow. She traced his tattoos again, lazily humming. The arm of his she was laying on was curled around her, his thumb lightly caressing the skin of her waist. She was hugged tightly to his side, her throbbing left arm pinned between them. For whatever odd reason, the conversation she had had with Cassandra earlier in the day floated through her mind. "So, Bull," she said softly, interrupting her own humming.

"Hmm?" he asked, probably dozing a little bit.

"We've been together a few years now. You ever think of going... further?" she wondered, her tone still low as if it were an idle thought. The last time she had brought up marriage, it had been a joke. Now, she was curious if his wild eyed reaction would be replaced with something more willing to think about it.

He chuckled softly, jostling her head a bit before his voice vibrated through her. "I don't see how we can top that night we did it with you hanging from the chandelier."

Her mind flashed back to that night, and she cringed. "I, uh... that's not really what I..."

He tightened his arm around her, letting her know he had just been teasing. He knew precisely what she had meant. "You're my Kadan. That's a choice I make every day. I don't need to be bound to it. But if you like the binding, then when this is over, we'll make it official, however you like."

She huddled up closer to him, unsure if she even really wanted it. It was good to know that she had options though. It made her feel good that he was willing to take that very human step for her, should she wish it.


	18. The Silver Knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things start to go to shit

When she had woken up the next morning, Bull was still snoring softly beside her and her arm was nearly numb. Her fingers tingled with pins and needles like when circulation was being restored to a sleeping limb. She extricated herself from him, making sure she didn't disturb him and took a look at her hand. All around the glowing mark, tendrils of magic had begun to trail along beneath her skin, like the Anchor was spreading throughout her veins. The sight made her queasy, and she quickly dressed and pulled thick gloves on over the monstrosity. The Inquisition was doomed if the Inquisitor decided to skip the first day of the Exalted Council because she wasn't feeling up to presenting herself. She did the best she could to prepare herself. She did not wear the formal clothing of the previous day, and in place of her mask, she simply applied light makeup, winging her eyes and then shadowing them to make it look like the dark circles that plagued her complexion were intentional. After leaving Bull a brief note wishing him one last happy birthday and saying she hoped he enjoyed the day, she dragged herself to the Council Chambers.

It was mid day, and she had barely had a chance to get a word in edgewise while Arl Teagan and Duke Cyril argued through Leliana as she sat between them on the dais, her hands folded neatly before her. Josephine would pipe up every now and again to defend the Inquisition, but the Council was going just about as well as had been predicted.

“The Inquisition established an armed presence in Ferelden Territory. You outright seized Caer Bronach in Crestwood!” Arl Teagan accused, his finger wagging at Cirilla who was currently glaring at him with her throbbing fist clenched under the table. She was doing her best to maintain a diplomatic air, but he was making it very difficult.

"Our goal was to keep more Ferelden citizens from dying, not to seize power," she explained gently.

Teagan huffed. “Your help was appreciated two years ago, Inquisitor. Now order has been restored, yet you remain. Invading under pretext of restoring order was exactly what the Grey Wardens did to us centuries ago, and we exiled them! Now the Inquisition is doing the same thing, with Grey Wardens in their ranks!”

Duke Cyril piped up, still haughtily insisting he was on Cirilla's side. “Your concern is ill founded. The Grey Wardens have proved their worth time and again.”

Teagan snorted. “Of course Orlais tolerates this interference. The Inquisition is the only reason Celene still has the throne.”

“Rest assured, Teagan, the Empire of Orlais will not stand idle if the Inquisition oversteps it's bounds.” Cirilla slowly dropped her head into her hands as Cyril droned on. “Unlike Ferelden, however, Orlais understands that these were the well-intentioned mistakes of a young organization.”

After rubbing her face, she glanced over at Josie who gave her an encouraging nod. _Chin up, Inquisitor_. It was hard to do that as the men argued. “An organization in need of a guiding hand. Yours, no doubt,” Teagan spat.

While the argument continued, an elven woman approached Cirilla from behind and leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Pardon me, Inquisitor. Divine Victoria wishes to speak with you in private.”

Cirilla turned to frown at the woman. She was dressed in Inquisition trappings and stood politely smiling at her. “The Divine Victoria... who is sitting just up there?” Cirilla hissed quietly as she nodded her head toward Leliana who sat between the two arguing countries.

“Yes. And who was once your spymaster,” the elf insisted with a wink. Cirilla flicked her eyes to Leliana and the smiling Divine had been replaced by the menacing looking bard that had once been her spymaster. Leliana nodded carefully, so subtle that Cirilla was uncertain if she truly saw it. “It's a pressing matter, Your Worship,” the elf whispered urgently.

Cirilla cleared her throat. The argument above ceased as both men gaped at her. “My apologies. An urgent matter has come to my attention. Ambassador Montilyet, can you handle this for a short while?”

Joesphine sputtered out an affirmative. “I... Of course, Inquisitor.”

“This is highly irregular!” Duke Cyril called after her as Cirilla stood and followed the elven woman from the chambers.

"Are we not even worth the Inquisitor's time?" Teagan growled loudly.

Cirilla heard Leliana calmly call a recess and she went around the outside of the building to wait for the Divine. When she joined them, the elf led them toward the garden section that housed the tavern. A small building behind the tavern was their destination. A crowd was gathered and Leliana parted the sea of people by simply being who she was. They entered the single room guarded by two Inquisition soldiers and the sight before them made Cirilla take a step back. “The guard said we should both see this,” Leliana mused, kneeling carefully on a section of the floor that was not covered by the pool of blood spreading from the dead Qunari propped against the back wall. “I believe she was correct.” Leliana examined the body as closely as she dared in her white robes and Cirilla knelt beside her, with curiosity. “A Qunari warrior in full armor. How did he get into the Winter Palace?”

Leliana had made a point about still being spymaster, and Cirilla had an idea. "So, what would hte Left Hand of the Divine see when she looked at this?"

Leliana turned her head to Cirilla and smiled, obviously glad that Cirilla was taking her out of her vestments, if even for a moment. Then she glanced back at the body. "This is a warrior, not a spy. Part of the Antaam, the Qunari military. Most of his wounds come from a fight against someone using magic, but at least a few are from a blade. He was badly hurt, separated from his allies, and made it here before he died. But how?"

Cirilla sighed and got to her feet. "Deadly mysteries at the Winter Palace. Throw in a halla statue and some caprice coins, and it's just like old times." When Leliana stood, she continued. "Can Josephine manage the diplomats while I look around?"

Leliana nodded and waved her hand. “She will be fine. It's all speeches and posturing for the first few days, anyway. I will extend the recess as long as possible. I will also have our friends ready themselves for battle, if need be.”

Cirilla frowned. “You think that's likely?”

“I think the Exalted Council may be more exciting than we expected,” Leliana said with a smirk.

Between the council itself, her hand acting up, and now the new mess they had unwittingly stepped in, Cirilla thought she was just about at capacity for excitement. "I'll see if there is a blood trail to follow. Maybe I can find out where he came from." She chuckled. "I'm suddenly glad I was able to talk Josephine into letting me pack my gear."

"A bard is always prepared," Leliana agreed with a proud smile.

Cirilla left the small room and made her way through the gathered crowd, picking up on the blood trail outside. It circled to the side of the building and she noted a few broken pieces of lattice on a nearby trellis. When she looked up, she saw blood on the white pieces of wood, all of the way up to the third floor. She debated on going around, but decided faster was better and carefully climbed the broken trellis. What she found at the end of the blood trail made her jaw drop in shock. "How did this get here?" she mused. Standing tall in the middle of a room was an active eluvian glowing brightly. She reached out to touch it, but then drew her hand back. There was no way she was going in there alone and unarmed. A Qunari soldier had died in there.

She made her way back down the trellis and across from the cafe where a small rarely used smithy had been installed likely years ago and never touched. Only in Orlais could you find a smithy that was used as decoration. All of her former companions had been gathered. News spread quickly to those who Leliana decided to inform. When she walked in, they all turned to look at her with varying degrees of curiosity. She glanced at Varric, Sera, and Bull, her usual crew... and grinned. "I hope you brought your gear. We have an active eluvian to investigate."

She prepared herself while the others speculated. When she pulled her gloves off and saw the progression of the spreading mark had reached her wrist, she quickly slipped her combat gloves on. She was glad that the veins of green magic hadn't reached up her fingers quite yet so they could be seen above the finger-less gloves.

They all headed to the eluvian with Cullen behind them so he could relocate the mirror to a more secure location while they investigated. Once they passed through, Cirilla looked around, recognizing the foggy grey landscape. "We're back in the Crossroads."

Sera looked around with a half glare twisting her face. "It's pretty, I guess. Kind of... stretchy." She shuddered. "Too many colors."

Cirilla felt her own brow arch as Varric scoffed. "What are you talking about? Everything's all grey."

Sera looked dumbfounded. "But... there's patterns all over. It's like glass from where's it... Serault. Isn't it?"

They had been so preoccupied the last time with how quickly Sera could move through the Crossroads that they had never stopped to discuss how it might look to her. "I wonder if it somehow looks different to elves."

Sera made a distressed sound. "How would that work? Eyes are eyes, or supposed to be!" She grunted in displeasure. "Ugh, stupid place!" she shouted, causing an odd echoing.

Cirilla sighed and started off after the blood trail. It led up a path to their right, stopping at another eluvian. "The blood trail leads to this mirror," Cirilla pointed.

"Right," Bull said anxiously. "Let's see where this guy came from."

They stepped through the mirror into a darkened hallway, the light from the sun ahead casting a glare down the stairs before them. Cirilla blinked to adjust her eyes and looked around. She recognized the architecture as well as the faded art along the walls of the corridor. "Elven ruins. I'm not sure we're even in Orlais anymore."

She led them down the hall, up the stairs and straight into another dead Qunari. "Another Qunari, dressed like the one in the Winter Palace."

"He's Karashok," Bull explained, kneeling beside her. "A foot soldier. Must've been in the same squad." When they stood, he clapped her back. "Oh, this is gonna be fun. The old team together again to kick some ass! How 'bout it, Kadan?" She gave him a small smile that barely reached her eyes. As good as it felt to be back to adventuring, her arm was nearly agonizing. It was starting to concern her.

"You're still doing nicknames? Nicknames are my thing, Tiny," Varric said with a chuckle.

"It's a title of honor for the woman I love," Bull explained calmly as they exited the hall to get a look at the surroundings outside.

Sera giggled deviously. "I'll bet. Get 'honor' and stay on her." Cirilla snorted as she glanced around. There were several rolling green hills around a valley with a lake below. The hills each had a tower resting on it's peak. In the middle of the lake was a small island with another structure built on it, connected to the land by a bridge.

Bull grumbled. "This was supposed to be about hitting things, remember?" While she looked around, a magical explosion rocked the valley. A burst of green magic spreading around the top of the tower directly across from them in a ring that slowly dissipated as it got larger. The sound was like a muffled pop and it made Cirilla's ears thrum uncomfortably.

Sera sighed as they watched the explosion. "Looking for ruins and dead people. Why do I keep coming back for trips like this?"

There was an eluvian directly ahead of them and standing between them and the mirror was a cluster of Qunari that had been turned to stone, all in various fighting positions. In the middle of them all on the ground was a great black scorch mark. "This is the work of a mage," Cirilla pointed out. We need to find out why these Qunari were here _and_ who did this to them." Through the eluvian, a brief tingling rippled over her skin and instead of the Crossroads, they ended up on the small stone bridgehead that attached to the bridge across to the island. Cirilla spotted Qunari on the other side of the bridge, but the crossing was currently submerged. The small mechanism that looked to control the rise and fall of the bridge was a pressure plate. The small wolf statue that currently sat atop it was snapped in half, the top half nowhere to be found. "If we want to know why they're here, we've got to get across to that island."

Another active eluvian sat to their left. Seeing no other option that didn't involve swimming, she shrugged and stepped through it. It took them to another of the towers where a group of bound spirits stood atop a short flight of stairs. "Atish'all vallem. Fen'Harel elathadra."

"I don't understand," Cirilla said politely as the spirit hefted a heavy looking maul onto it's shoulder. She may have mastered Qunlat to the best of her ability, but elven was not her strong suit.

"Nuvenas mana helanin, dirth bellasa ma," the spirit demanded.

"We're visitors," Cirilla explained. "We didn't mean to disturb you."

"Virthar ma. Na din'an sahlin!" It hefted the maul from it's shoulder and swung it at Cirilla. Caught off guard, she barely got out of the way, the head connecting with her left shoulder and knocking her to the side. She felt the joint pop out of place and her already numb arm screamed in pain. Bull charged past her to slam his axe downwards, cleaving the spirit in half. The other spirits started to fire ethereal arrows into their midst as Cirilla scrambled on her ass behind a stack of crates that was nearby, clutching her arm. She could hear the fight raging and she slowly let go of her shoulder to fish for some throwing knives, careful to hold the injured limb close to her body. When she had a few knives in her hand, she stood from her cover, scanned for the enemies and flung the knives, improving her aim with a brief song of enchanting. The four archers went down and she growled in pain, clutching at her shoulder again.

"Ugh! That son of a bitch!" she grunted.

Varric was closest to her and he steadied her with a gentle hand on her opposite elbow. "That needs to be put back in place, Ribbons."

"I can't do it," Bull said regretfully. "Human muscle is too thin. I'd end up tearing the ligament."

"Sit down," Varric coached, indicating the stairs they had come up. She made her way down a few steps and he stood on the stair just above where she sat. He took hold of her shoulder and her arm in each of his hands, probing the dislocation and then grinned at her. "If you need to hit me, try not to aim for the face or the groin."

"On three?" she asked through gritted teeth as his touch cast searing pain up and down her entire side.

He nodded and they began to count together. "One... two..." Varric swiftly pulled her arm outwards and then the joint ground audibly back into place. After the burst of pain, her head swam briefly before Varric's gloved hand repeatedly tapped her cheek. "All done," he promised, jarring her back to her senses.

"You went early," she whimpered as the pain dulled to join the throbbing from the mark.

"Yeah, Hawke always hated that too," he patted her other shoulder and then held out a hand to help her up.

"All right, Kadan?" Bull asked when she climbed the stairs.

She nodded, rolling the joint and cringing. "I think that spirit considered us intruders," she pointed out sardonically.

"Maybe it's all the intruding we did. When we intruded?" Sera emphasized.

"It must have been set to guard something," Cirilla guessed.

They circled the tower, which was the one they had seen the explosion coming from if the smoking rubble was any indication, coming across another group of dead Qunari. Cirilla investigated, finding a note written in Qunalt and translated to the King's tongue. She wondered why they might be translating when Sera curled her lip back in confusion. "Qunari were living here? _Why_?"

Cirilla shrugged softly, cautious of her still aching shoulder. Then she pointed to the bodies. "These Qunari were running when they died. Let's find where this battle began."

Around the next side of the tower, Cirilla noticed a large, shallow alcove that looked like it was supposed to be deeper. A green mosaic rested in the middle of the alcove depicting an inviting swirling pattern. The mrk tingled and she looked down at her hand and then back at the mosaic. She tentatively lifted her hand to the wall and the Anchor reacted, bursting with magic like it was familiar. Her eyes closed as a strange feeling of welcome flowed over her and a few images of elves greeting their haggard brothers and sisters and tending their wounds flashed by her eyes. A humming voice spoke in the background like a narration. _Fen'Harel bids you welcome. Rest, knowing the Dread Wolf guards you and his people guard this valley. In this place, you are free. In trusting us, you will never be bound again. _When the words faded, Cirilla opened her eyes and the mark finished absorbing the magic. When it snapped from where she held it, the mosaic dissolved like a curtain to reveal the alcoves hidden section that housed another eluvian. She shook out her hand as the magic tingled through the spreading veins of magic. "That was like veilfire," she explained as she headed for the eluvian. "It claimed... this was a refuge for elven slaves."

"Slaves... of other elves? The old elves?" Sera gasped. "Pissers."

Cirilla nodded in amazement. "This whole valley was a sanctuary 'created by the Dread Wolf, Fen'Harel'."

The eluvian took them to one of the other towers where halfway around the outer balcony Varric chuckled and said sarcastically, "So, we're getting the band back together? That's exciting."

She grinned and chuckled, nudging him. "Admit it, Varric, you're going to miss getting into trouble like this."

"Pay me a visit in Kirkwall, Ribbons. I can almost promise you trouble when you arrive," He chuckled.

At the top of a short staircase, Bull knelt by another Qunari corpse. "Cuts all over the back," he pointed out. "He was killed by surprise."

"This can't have happened too long ago. The blood's not even dry," Cirilla said as she investigated the body as well. It told her to be cautious because the killer was likely still lurking somewhere.

At the top of the stairs, they found another of the mosaics and she repeated the process with the anchor. This mosaic offered hope that coiled in her gut as she saw an elf clad in wolf skin among a group of freed slaves and more words fluttered around inside her head. _Fen'Harel has been falsely named a god, but is as mortal as any of you. He takes no divine mantle, and asks that none be bestowed upon him. He leads only those who would help willingly. Let none be beholden but by choice._

When the voice faded and the mosaic disappeared, the mark tingled again, making her clench her fist and then shake her hand again. It was probably a terribe idea to be using the mark when it was in this state, but it seemed she had little choice. "This is... Fen'Harel helping former slaves as a mortal. Not a god."

Bull hummed in thought, his eye flicking to her hand as she shook it and then to her pinched expression. "Kinda curious that this guy had to specify he _wasn't_ a god."

" 'Ordinary guy saves people, accidentally founds religion'. Sounds a lot like the Chant, actually," Varric pointed out.

Behind that mosaic was a spiraling staircase to the bowels of the tower, lined with some paintings and other elven propaganda. At the very bottom, another mosaic stood. Grudgingly, she lifted her hand to the glowing magic and absorbed it. She felt a fury rise above the hope from the last mosaic as she watched a group of mages claiming godhood as they enslaved tens of thousands. _The gods, our Evanuris, claim divinity, yet they are naught but mortals powerful in magic who can die as you can. In this place, we teach those who join us to unravel their lies. _Cirilla laughed out loud as she shook her hand again. "This claims the elven 'gods' were just 'Evanuris'... powerful but completely mortal mages."

"Whoever ran this place was trying to rebuild the slaves' confidence. Get rid of old propaganda," Bull said with a nod, like he understood. The Qun was known for rewriting the religious beliefs of anyone who joined as viddathari, so his understanding made sense. She saw him looking at her reaction again.

She scowled. "If that's true, Fen'Harel was teaching these freed slaves the truth about these 'false gods'."

The room behind the mosaic was dark, save for a rounded metal tree, much like the ones she had seen in the Crossroads. This one hung suspended upside down from the ceiling and it crackled with magic. The short bursts of light from the magic showed a small statue sitting on a pedestal in the middle of the room. From this distance, it looked like the broken statue on the bridge should have looked. When she stepped in the room to get a better look, the Anchor burst with magic, shocking all of the way up her arm and straight into her jawbone, when a tendril of the magic from the tree licked toward her. Unable to ignore the shock, she cried out and shook out her hand again.

"Everything okay?" Varric asked as the room went dark save for the humming glow of the Anchor.

She hissed, looking down at her hand. "It felt like the Anchor stung me." She balled her fist around the glow and gritted her teeth as Bull eyed her suspiciously. She used the glow to make her way to the statue and picked it up. As soon as her hand touched it, more of the elven spirits burst from the shadows and attacked. They were almost as fast as the sentinels they had met in the Arbor Wilds. Something was different about the Anchor. As one of the spirits tried to back her into a corner, she reached inward and discharged the magic that had been absorbed from the mosaics all around the towers. A bursting sound ripped from the Anchor and some of the pressure in her hand subsided. The entire room lit up with the glow from her palm and a green hum of magic swirled up around her and the others. When the elf slashed at her with his dagger, she braced herself, but the blade bounced off her. The Anchor had created a magical barrier around her. The others seemed to be affected too, but the spirits were still vulnerable. It made eliminating them that much easier. When the last spirit puffed from existence everyone looked at her in curiosity as the glow from the Mark faded, bathing them in darkness again. "I don't know," she said softly, pocketing the statue. "Come on. Let's get back to the bridge."

They backtracked through the eluvians in silence, Bull's eye boring a hole in her back. She fitted the statue into the base and a click resounded before the bridge began to raise from the lake with a loud rumbling. As soon as they crossed over, a group of Qunari piled out of the large sanctuary building ahead and the lead one shouted. "Vashedan! The Inquisition doesn't leave alive."

They attacked with vigor, some of the warriors throwing heavy spears into the fray from great distances with frightening precision. More than once, Cirilla had to dive out of the way, rolling back to her feet and taking cover behind anything she could find to get a handle on the situation, only to be charged by massive shield wielding warriors that hit like a druffalo. It was hard enough fought that when they entered the sanctuary after that group was gone, she groaned in frustration at the mess of Qunari already engaged with more of the elven spirits. She was tempted to allow them to kill each other and pick off the spoils, but the easier solution was to allow Varric and Sera to pick them off while they were distracted with each other.

The entire building was littered with Qunari and all of them took more than one hit before they cleared the place out. "Why did those Qunari attack 'the Inquisition' on sight?" Cirilla gasped as she nursed a shallow cut across her upper thigh that stung.

"No idea," Bull grumbled as he rolled his shoulders, several of the cuts across his chest opening back up and trickling blood. "They weren't Tal-Vashoth, though. This might be a rogue group, but they _think_ they're following the Qun."

At the very rear of the sanctuary stood a massive wolf statue sitting in a relaxed position. The walls formed a circle around the statue and were covered in a rather impressive depiction of an elf clad in wolf skin casting a spell on some others kneeling before him. Cirilla studied it carefully and hummed. "That's Fen'Harel. Removing the face markings from a Dalish elf?"

"Not Dalish," Sera corrected haltingly. "They weren't Dalish yet. Right?"

Cirilla shrugged. "Maybe the markings used to have a different meaning?" She wished they could stick around and puzzle out more of the clues, but she needed to find out the answers to her more pressing questions first.

They searched the room and the Qunari bodies, finding a hidden passage beneath the wolf statue that led them down to another mosaic. She was inundated with a great determination as the mark connected with the magic. Clear faced elves flashed by, clad in armor and clutching weapons. _The brand of the Evanuris can be lifted from you, that all may know you oppose their cruelties. None here are slaves. All are under out protection. All may choose to fight._ She grunted, shaking out her hand, as they passed through the disappearing mosaic and saw a hidden armory. "Hidden weapons. These freed slaves actually fought back against the Evanuris posing as gods."

Sera barked with laughter. "The Dalish. Are going. To shit themselves."

Cirilla felt like she agreed. There was so much here in an actual ancient ruin that told a truth that the Dalish would likely not accept. They were so proud of what little of their heritage that they had left, if this was brought to light, there would be chaos.

They followed the armory down to a small barracks that apparently the Qunari had taken over. A small band of the giant warriors was waiting for them below. In the tiny space, it was difficult for anyone to fight properly, so Cirilla, Bull and Sera backed off so Varric could toss a few grenades into the Qunari's midst. Then Cirilla discharged the Anchor again, blanketing herself and the others in a temporary barrier shield that allowed them to get in close and finish off the confused Qunari. The barracks seemed to be their base of operations, so Cirilla started to fish through the papers on the tables, automatically translating the Qunlat before even getting to the scribbled King's tongue below. "This letter says the Qunari came to these ruins because the eluvians connect to Halamshiral."

"So they're aiming for the Winter Palace?" Bull gasped, taking the letter form her so she could look further.

She nodded as she fished through more documents in a side room. "It was _some _sort of infiltration. There's no more details."

"This is crazy," Bull growled slapping the paper with the back of his hand. "They're acting like we're at war!"

"Are they?" she asked, glancing up a him as she pulled another interesting looking report from the top of a pile.

He sighed heavily. "I don't know, Boss. I wish I did." He had called her boss, which meant he was irritated. Whether it was at her over her hand, or at the Qunari, she couldn't be sure.

She read over the note in her hands and translated. "A note about an 'unknown intruder' coming through an eluvian. They 'turned spirits against us', then fled." She sighed. "Two parties, then. The Qunari and a mystery agent determined to stop them." She dropped the note and left the side room. There was an eluvian at the far side of the room and she headed toward it. "Come on. We have to warn people about the Qunari's designs on the Winter palace."

The eluvian took them to a closed in room with a lever on the wall. The lever lifted the gate blocking their way and it spilled them back into the shadowy hallway they had come into from the Crossroads.

Back at the Winter Palace, Cirilla sent the others to get their wounds checked out while she sought Cullen and Josephine. She had not planned on Leliana making herself part of the meeting, but she was standing on Cullen's right as usual on the opposite side of a table in a small storage room where they had privately set up to meet. Her arms were clasped behind her back and she swayed her hips. Even in the unflattering vestments, it was a small comfort to see her spymaster had changed little. Cullen was sneering, his sword back at his hip. "One dead Qunari was bad enough. Now we have more, and they're hostile," he grumbled as Cirilla paced, jamming her thumb into the mark on her palm, trying to stop the throbbing after she had explained what they had found.

"This makes no sense," Josephine sighed. "The Qunari may not be friendly to the Inquisition, but they have no reason to attack us."

"They also have no reason to be here... or using eluvians... at all," Leliana pointed out.

"I've had the mirror placed under guard for now, Your Holiness," Cullen explained, stopping Cirilla in her tracks and making Leliana briefly sneer.

"Cullen, please just call me Leliana," she begged.

"Yes, Your..." she backhanded his arm and he chuckled. "Leliana."

Cirilla sighed. "It appears the relative peace and quiet of the last two years is coming to an end."

Cullen frowned. "First the Blight, then mages and templars, then Corypheus, and now this. Can't we go ten years without the world falling to pieces?"

"We must ensure that the Qunari do not disrupt the negotiations," Josephine insisted. "The Exalted Council is in a very delicate state."

"I'm certain you can soothe the noble's ruffled feathers while we solve the real problem," Cullen spat in irritation.

Both Josephine and Leliana cringed and shook their heads in an eerily similar fashion. "_Not _when the Inquisitor insults everyone present by walking out in the middle of the talks!" Josephine snapped back, brandishing her quill at him. Then she looked at Cirilla. "Our only advantage is that Orlais and Ferelden are divided in goal and grievance. If they unite against us, Divine Victoria will have no choice but to support their claims. We could lose everything."

Cirilla balled her fist around the throbbing mark and frowned. "Could we use the Qunari threat to remind everyone how valuable the Inquisition still is?"

"Not until we know more," Josephine said with a sigh, shaking her head. "It will be fine. I will attend to the Exalted Council."

"And while Josie does that, we will investigate," Leliana said almost excitedly.

“ 'We?' Your Holiness?” Josephine asked quizzically.

Leliana turned her head forward and scowled, her lips pursed. Then a frustrated sigh escaped her. “You too, Josie?”

Cirilla sighed. “I'll head back to the Crossroads. We need to find out what the Qunari are doing and why they attacked.”

“And I'll have a quiet word with our Honor Guard,” Cullen assured her as she stalked from the room.

Dorian was waiting for her outside the meeting room, his arms crossed and a disapproving scowl on his face. "We need to have a talk, Cirilla."

"About?" she asked, playing aloof.

He rolled his eyes and took her by the arm to lead her to a secluded corner where they couldn't be seen or heard. "The Iron Bull is beside himself. I couldn't get a straight answer from him as he squirmed while I healed his injuries, but it seems to have something to do with the Anchor."

At mention of the Anchor, she hugged her hand to her chest, covering it with the other before chuckling a little bit too loudly. "It's nothing. Bull tends to turn into a Mother Hen whenever someone he cares about so much as sneezes."

Dorian held out his hand and beckoned her with his shimmering fingers. "Show me." It was not a request and Cirilla scowled. He pursed his lips. "Please don't force me to wrestle you for it, Cirilla. Perhaps I can help." She bit her lip, loosening her grip on the pulsing ache that was her left hand. Finally, she swallowed and gingerly unbent her elbow and placed her hand in his. He carefully pulled her glove free and then rolled up her sleeve. "Maker's Breath," he gasped as he saw the snaking tendrils of green veining that had now climbed halfway up her forearm. "How long has it looked like this?" He pulled her arm closer to examine the mark and then turned her hand over to look at the back of it.

"It was fine yesterday," she said. "It started to hurt when I arrived at the Palace, and it's been getting progressively worse since. When I woke this morning was when I noticed it spreading."

"And you said nothing?" he asked scoldingly.

"I had the Exalted Council to contend with," she explained. "It was under control."

"Obviously it wasn't," Dorian sighed glancing sadly up at her. "I..." he cleared his throat. "I will see if there is anything I can do to help ease the pain or slow down the progression."

"In the mean time, I need to get back to the Crossroads and see if we can figure out anything else about the Qunari," she said.

As Dorian pulled her sleeve down, she felt his magic seep over her, making short work of her other injuries. "I suppose there is nothing I can do to stop you?" he asked softly, handing her glove back to her.

"I'm the Inquisitor, Dorian. This is my duty." She grasped his hand with her good arm, squeezing tightly. "You can't tell Bull what you saw. I don't need him worrying while we're fighting."

"I'm afraid it's too late to stop him worrying. You'll need to tell him something, Cirilla. For a man with one eye, he certainly sees more than most people do with both of theirs," Dorian reminded her.

She sighed. "I just wanted to spend some time with my friends and survive the Exalted Council. Was that so much to ask?"

"Too much it would seem," Dorian said patting her hand that was clutching his still. "Be safe. I will go see what the Winter Palace library has by way of magical tomes."

"Thank you, Dorian," she said with a bitter smile.

"Don't thank me, yet," he warned just as bitterly.

She found her crew idling outside the decorative smithy and trotted up to them with a smile on her face, glove back in place. "Josephine is working on the Council while everyone else hits the books. We need to head back to the Crossroads and see if there are any other eluvians with Qunari coming and going from them."

As Sera and Varric headed toward the room where Cullen had smuggled the eluvian, Bull grasped her hand with his and it took everything she had not to flinch as he squeezed it in his. He hadn't done that without intention. "You all right, Kadan?"

"Of course," she smiled, allowing him to hold on tightly as they followed after Sera and Varric.

He stared down at her for a moment and grudgingly accepted her wish to not tell him about her hand. "Wish I hadn't burned all my contacts with the Ben-Hassrath. Be nice to have some idea what they're doing right now."

She chuckled playfully. "Yeah, but then you'd be on their side, Kadan."

"Yes, but I'd _know_ things. I like knowing things," he pointed out driving another dagger into her guilt at not telling him about her hand. When they reached the eluvian and passed through, they almost immediately saw a group of Qunari running across a path that had not been there before. "Hey!" Bull shouted. "Ben'abas toh hass'ost?" The Qunari ignored him and he grunted angrily. "Guess they didn't feel like talking."

"That path wasn't there before," Cirilla pointed out as they started after the fleeing Qunari.

"It's the Qunari, right? Rocks can't move themselves," Sera said walking as they ran to keep in pace.

"All right. Let's see where they were going," Bull grumbled as they reached the eluvian the Qunari had disappeared through.

Cirilla was shocked to step through an elven eluvian and wind up in the Deep Roads. She looked around at the crumbling overlook where they stood and gaped for a moment before putting her guard up. "Those Qunari can't have gotten far. Be ready."

As it turned out, she was right. Just around the corner up ahead, the Qunari were setting up a pile of large rounded metal casks against some rubble that seemed to be blocking the way forward. When one of them turned and spotted them approaching, again without even a chance to talk, the Qunari attacked. "Vashedan! You who serve Fen'Harel! The Qun demands your death!"

Moments into the battle, the one that had been working on the pile of casks lit a sparkling fuse and ran in the opposite direction. Seconds later, the barrels blew, blasting the pile of rubble to ash and shaking the entire cavern. In the smoke that followed the fire, Cirilla had the advantage. Drawing the shadows around her, she was able to dart through the smoke and slit throats left and right until none of the Qunari remained.

Varric looked around, frowning as he folded up Bianca's arms and secured her back over his shoulder. "Why would a mystical elven mirror lead here?"

Equally curious, Cirilla nodded. "We need to find out what these Qunari were up to. So let's go see, shall we?" The Qunari had helpfully opened the way with their exploding barrels. When she passed through the now open path, there were a few Qunari lying dead, crushed by large rocks. "Looks like there was a bad cave-in." Passing by the ruined room, they came upon a grand staircase that followed the curved wall down and around to the right. At the bottom of the stairs, the path that had once been there was crumbled, leaving a great gaping chasm. Cirilla gasped as she saw across the pit to where Qunari loitered about everywhere. There was scaffolding and what looked to be mining equipment. "Look at all that! The Qunari have a huge operation here."

"Yeah, but for what?" Bull wondered in frustration.

Another explosion went off in the distance across the way and the entire cavern shook, small rocks and dust falling on their heads. "Well, now we know why shit keeps falling down," Varric mused, brushing off his coat.

"This place isn't stable," Cirilla agreed.

She urged everyone away from the edge and into the next chamber. The Anchor decided that was the perfect time to shock her with another stinging burst of energy. "Boss," Bull grumbled in a low tone. "Your hand's doing that thing again."

Now she knew his irritation was mostly with her. She sighed and discharged the Anchor to bring the brightness to the utter darkness around them. "Well, maybe the Anchor can make itself useful down here." she grumbled.

When the area lit up, Varric sighed grumpily. "Great, we're in the Deep Roads. I feel myself getting dwarfier by the minute. Did I just sprout a beard?" After jokingly touching his face, he sighed again. "I hate caves."

"And slopes. Uneven ground. The dark. Pretty much all kinds of weather..." Bull listed, counting off on his fingers.

"And everything that isn't hearing himself talk," Sera teased.

"Look," Varric chuckled. "I have to complain, or you'll forget I'm here and trip over me! I'm providing a service."

His joke was interrupted by squeaking noises as a bunch of glowing eyes charged at them in a pack. "Snappy little assholes!" Bull growled, kicking at the nearest Deep Stalker as it scurried into range.

Cirilla dropped low and started swiping at the creepy little beasts with the cylindrical mouths filled with razor sharp teeth. "Well, this place is all kinds of fun," Varric finished as they took out the last of the deep stalkers. "What are the Qunari even doing in a place this awful?"

Cirilla had no answer for him yet as they trudged deeper into the excavated caves ahead. She saw a light up ahead in the ceaseless darkness and approached it. "Look!" she pointed. "Someone up ahead. I think he's human."

They dropped into the small hideaway and the man stood, brandishing a sword. "Stay back! I..." he said nervously before his eyes flicked to her glowing palm and then widened. "Wait... Your hand... Are you the Inquisitor?"

"Odd to find a human down in the Deep Roads at all, let alone surrounded by Qunari," she pointed out as he lowered his sword.

"We don't have much time," He responded, his tone still nervous. "Please, what the Viddasala is doing... you have to stop her."

"The Viddasala?" Bull stepped forward, suddenly interested. "That's a high-ranking Ben-Hassrath. Specializes in magic. Finding, studying, stopping," he explained to Cirilla, all traces of his annoyance at her gone.

"Not anymore," the man grunted. "I don't care whether you serve Fen'Harel or not. Someone has to stop her."

Cirilla crossed her arms. "Why do the Qunari think that the Inquisition serves Fen'Harel?"

"I don't know," he said sheepishly, wringing his hands. "The Viddasala said it, and the Qunari here accept it as _fact_. We've had agents of Fen'Harel causing trouble all over the Crossroads. Sabotage, making spirits attack us..." He shook his head. "I assumed the Inquisition was their army, that you came here because Fen'Harel told you to."

She flicked her eyes up and down him, noting his casual attire. "Who are you, exactly?"

"My name is Jerran. Ser Jerran, once. I was a templar in Kirkwall. Until I joined the Qun," he explained.

She knew it was not unheard of. Elves were not the only ones who could become viddathari, just the most common. "You're Qunari?"

He nodded. "Kirkwall was... madness. Chaos. The Qunari were like the eye of a storm. I stand for order and discipline, protecting the innocent from magic, but this plan... it's as mad as Meredith ever was."

"What do you mean? This Viddasala's not doing her job anymore?" Cirilla asked curiously.

"Almost a complete reversal, actually," Jerran nodded, his bright green eyes catching in the light of his small fire as he looked around shiftily, as if the Viddasala could hear him. "This place is a lyrium mining and processing center. The Qunari need it for... Have you ever heard of saarebas?"

" 'Dangerous thing'," Bull translated for the others. " 'Swhat the Qun calls mages."

"Even as a templar, I'd never seen anything like the power saarebas can unleash," Jerran continued with a nod. "And now Viddasala is giving them Lyrium. A lost of lyrium. It's part of something she calls 'Dragon's Breath'."

"That's a load of crap," Bull argued. "There's no way the Viddasala would let any saarebas within a thousand feet of lyrium."

"There's more to it than that," Jerran insisted. "But I couldn't find out what. The Qunari don't like it when you ask too many quesions."

Cirilla also disagreed with his speech. "The Qunari can't be mining their own lyrium. It kills anyone who tries, other than dwarves."

"It killed the Qunari at first," Jerran explained. "But Qunari workers have a discipline only Tranquil can match. And they're quick learners. They figured it out."

Cirilla pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. "I'm not sure how to stop the Qunari from using lyrium."

"The lyrium is only part of the Viddasala's larger plan, Inquisitor," Jerran said, his nerves returning. "She said it would 'save the South'. That can mean only one thing... an invasion. This mine is the only source of lyrium the Qunari have. They're using gaatlok... the explosive powder in the round casks... to mine, so they don't have to touch raw lyrium. If you get the primers from central supply, you can prime the gaatlok and detonate it. The mines will go up in flames."

Cirilla scoffed. "Even if I succeed, will that really stop the Viddasala?"

"It would be a start," Jerran pointed out. "Deepstalkers and cave-ins will cut off reinforcements, but they'll still come when they hear trouble. You've got to find the Viddasala to end this war before it begins."

She waved a dismissive hand. "There's no telling how bad things will get when I destroy the mine. You'd better get moving."

He nodded in shock, gathering his sword and a few belongings. "I will. Good luck, Inquisitor."

She turned to her people as he left, fiddling with the cuff on her left sleeve, the pressure irritating the throbbing in her arm. "Let's go. We have a lyrium mine to ruin."

They set off through a door to their left, and ran into another pack of Deepstalkers before Cirilla could get a good look at the dark cavern ahead. She jumped, swearing she heard whispering, when Sera said out loud, "Why are dwarves so short but carve their tunnels so tall?"

"Yes, why _do_ people make their houses slightly bigger than themselves? It is a mystery," Varric said sarcastically.

"All right," Sera giggled. "Fair play, Varric. Fair play."

As the light left them again, Cirilla focused on the mark and discharged the energy again, finding that it made a rather useful lantern. As the tunnel lit up green, she spotted a blocked passage with a few of the gaatlok barrels set up near it. Before she could investigate, the entire cavern shook as the Qunari blew up something not far ahead. Cirilla grabbed Bull's arm to keep her balance on the quaking ground. When he steadied her and offered her a brief smile, she returned it quickly, letting him know that her shortness had nothing to do with him. She was, for the most part, trying to ignore the blazing pain shooting up and down her arm and hoping it would go away on it's own. In the back of her mind she knew, she was likely deluding herself. "That doesn't sound good," she mumbled as large rocks fell off in the distance. Seeing no other way around the blockage, she sighed. "We saw the Qunari make these things explode... maybe we can use them to get out of here?"

"Gaatlok. Yeah, that'll definitely explode," Bull warned. "Be careful."

She bent over the barrel and fiddled with the primer. "Sera, can I borrow one of your arrowheads?" Cirilla asked, picking up a rock from the cavern floor." When Sera handed her the small bit of flint, she looked at the others. "Back up... around that pillar."

Once they were safely out of the way, she struck the flint on the stone and lit the short fuse. Then she darted away to join the others. Even around the pillar, they felt the impact of the blast as bits of metal cask rocketed from the detonation and ricocheted around the cavern. When the dust settled, Cirilla peered around the pillar and saw that they had definitely blasted their way through into another passage, not of the original structure from what she could tell. There were small bits of lyrium jutting from the walls, but most of them were mined hollow and Varric shuddered. "Why is it so dark? Don't dwarven ruins usually glow with... lyrium, or lava, or whatever's running through the walls?"

Bull grumbled in agreement, his back hunched. "Keep feeling like I'm gonna bang my horns on this crap."

"Let me go up front, then." Sera suggested. "I'm as good in a fight as you are."

"Damn right," he chuckled. "You're about the most dangerous person I know. A real Sera-bas!"

She scowled, pushing up between him and Cirilla. "Try to stitch my lips, and you're a pincushion. With arrows."

"They don't make a thread strong enough to hold your tongue," Bull taunted.

"That's what she said. I think..." Sera said thoughtfully.

Cirilla had missed the familiarity and banter between her people since they had drifted on to their own lives. It was soothing. She pushed the pain in her arm down and started to hum as she picked her way through the rubble toward a bridge that the Qunari had mounted torches on. The ceiling opened up and Bull stood from his slumped position. "Here they come," Cirilla warned as she saw Qunari heading for them, drawn by the explosion of the gaatlok.

They fought across the bridge, heading for the mining platforms that they could see sticking up from the ground at intervals along the cavern floor. "You know," Varric complained. "I went through one Qunari invasion. I was really hoping I'd never see another."

When they reached the first platform, Cirilla saw the gaatlok barrels, but they indeed had no primers. They couldn't blow anything without those primers. Another explosion shook the cavern as they passed onto a narrow ledge that led around the middle wall. Cirilla cringed, pressing herself to the wall and inching along. "This cavern is barely holding together," she grumbled.

Through more Qunari, they finally made it to central supply where they finally encountered one of the lyrium fed saarebas. Between him and his Arvaarad, Cirilla and the others barely made it through the scrap. The barrier that the discharged Anchor could now create was very useful in blocking a lot of the magic from the supercharged mage.

Targeting the mining platforms, Cirilla took the primers to specific locations and set them carefully on the gaatlok barrels. With each explosion, the cavern became more and more unstable. After the second detonation, water began rushing in from the cracked ceiling, filling the seemingly endless depths of the cavern much more quickly that she would have liked. She fought harder around each turn, striking down as many Qunari as she could to get to the next platform. When she had finished planting the fourth and the satisfying BOOM of the explosion rocked the ground, she said, "That's it! Let's get out of here and warn the others about this 'Dragon's Breath' plan."

Bull jogged beside her as she took off through the rising water that was now rushing along the bridge back across to where they had met Jerran. "Maybe Red's got news from her sources by now. We can ask her... You know, assuming we make it out of here without drowning."

The Qunari were relentless, dogging them the entire way back to the grand staircase where she regretfully found Jerran's body. As they raced up the stairs, the water trying to push them back down again, Cirilla panted. "So, who gets to tell Cullen and Josephine we're probably at war with the Qun? Anyone?"

Sera snorted. "Pfft. As if!"

They reached the overlook where the eluvian sat and she slowed sighing heavily. "They're going to kill me."

As they trekked through the Crossroads back to the Winter Palace, dripping wet, she placed her aching hand on Bull's arm. "What can you tell me about the Qunari we're dealing with?"

He glanced down at the mark, still glowing dimly through her glove and sighed a deep breath out through his nostrils. "These aren't Ben-Hassrath. They're specialists, working for a Viddasala. Ben-Hassrath handle normal security. The Viddasala's people focus entirely on magic. They find it, they study it, they neutralize it. And they must be desperate if they're using eluvians. I'd expect them to shatter any mirror they find."

Back in their closet at the Palace, Cirilla paced back and forth as Leliana snorted. “Dragon's Breath. The Qunari always enjoyed their metaphors.”

“But what does it mean?” Josephine asked shakily.

“Who knows? Qunari agents moving through Eluvians to attack the south is bad enough already.” Cullen said, his stance surprisingly stoic.

“I still do not understand why they accused the Inquisition of serving Fen'Harel,” Leliana mused, thoughtfully.

Cirilla paused briefly. “Corypheus tried to set himself up as a god. Maybe someone who knows elven history is doing the same.” She resumed her pacing.

“But how does that implicate us?” Josephine asked, her voice rising. “What made them decide that the Inquisition serves this Fen'Harel?”

“Hopefully we will learn more after we have stopped them,” Leliana suggested hopefully.

“Let's see the Exalted Council try to disband the Inquisition after we've saved them from this 'Dragon's Breath',” Cullen said with a sneer.

Leliana shook her head. “We must find out what Dragon's Breath is, first. For now, our only lead is the Qunari leader. The Viddasala...”

The door at the top of the stairs swung open and both Arl Teagan and Duke Cyril barged in. “Gentlemen!” Josephine gasped in unamused surprise.

“My apologies, Lady Josephine,” Duke Cyril said, bowing his head. “There has been an incident with one of your soldiers.”

“How dare you!” Teagan growled, stopping Cirilla in her tracks. “It was bad enough that the Inquisition chose not to inform the Exalted Council of the Qunari corpse...”

“Orlais would have been happy to help with the matter,” Duke Cyril stepped in, cutting off Teagan's rage momentarily.

“But now your own guards are attacking servants? You have overstepped your bounds!” Teagan roared.

Cirilla clenched her already balled fists, nearly drawing blood with her fingernails. “My plan to seize power in Ferelden would hardly start with soldiers scuffling in Orlais, Arl Teagan,” she growled sarcastically. With the agony in her hand, she was at her wits end wth being diplomatic. Interruptions meant wasting time. Time she wasn't certain she had left. The thought kept twisting around in her mind, turning her stomach.

Josephine shot her a hard glare. “While the Exalted Council is our foremost priority, the Inquisitor will of course address this matter personally.”

“Thank you, Inquisitor,” Duke Cyril said with a bow. “Orlais stands ready to assist the Inquisition, as always.”

“Secrets and lies,” Teagan spat. “Do you understand why we fear your Inquisition? You act as if you're the solution to every problem. How long before you drag us into another war?”

Cirilla's fists relaxed and she took a step backwards. That is exactly what she had done. Teagan and Cyril left the room and with a roll of her eyes, Cirilla sullenly followed after to see what the problem was with the soldiers.

Out in the courtyard near the tavern, another crowd had gathered. Cirilla pushed her way through the throng of bodies and made herself known. “What's going on here?”

One of her soldiers, a large, beefy man clad in chainmail, stepped up to salute her. “The Orlesians tried to take one of our people, Inquisitor. We've secured the area,” he reported.

She glanced from him to the elven woman that had originally called her from the Council and then down to a male elf who was sitting on the ground. Before she could find out what happened, a chevalier approached and scolded them in his thick accent. “This is the Winter Palace! You cannot simply seize control when one of _your_ guards attacks a servant!”

The man who had first spoken again interjected. “The Inquisition is handling this. When some noble commits a crime of fashion, you can take over.”

Cirilla held up a restraining hand. She didn't need a hot head insulting the Orlesians. “I only asked what he was doing,” the elven woman said with a shrug as the male stood up from the ground.

“And when I refused to bow to the Inquisition's dogs, you attacked me!” he accused.

“How would you like us to handle the situation, Inquisitor?” her soldier asked curtly.

Cirilla glanced around the area, trying to find out what had instigated one of her scouts to intercept a servant. Usually, the servants went unnoticed. Her heart skipped a beat when she realized what was sitting just beside the servant on the ground. “That barrel there... Where did it come from?” she asked, pointing a shaking hand at the silver barrel.

The servant answered. “I was ordered to bring wine for the guests.”

“You're lyin',” the elven woman accused.

“Your Inquisition soldiers are completely out of control!” the chevalier spat, his arms crossed indignantly.

“No. We're _in_ control. Keep talking, and you'll find yourself in chains,” her soldier threatened. Did Cullen really allow loud mouths like this in their ranks?

“Please take the servant into custody,” Cirilla requested, needing to know more about the gaatlock barrel sitting nice as you like in the middle of the Winter Palace.

“Right away, Your Worship,” her soldier said with another salute and went to do as she asked.

“Inquisitor?” the chevalier asked.

“Ambassador Montilyet will explain later. For now, please hold the servant for questioning,” she sighed.

“As you say, Inquisitor. Lord Cyril will hear about this,” the chevalier conceded.

When she was alone, the elven woman approached her. “Inquisitor? I also found this by the barrel. I can't read the language.”

Cirilla thanked her with a nod as she accepted the slip of paper with scribbled Qunlat all over it. She turned away, planning to take the note to Bull when she spotted Leliana hovering in the doorway to the temporary smithy. She casually approached the Divine and Leliana smiled warmly at her. “Did you resolve the problem with the guard?”

“The guard is the least of our problems,” she hissed, forcing her expression neutral as a mumbling crowd still lingered. “Someone smuggled gaatlock barrels into the Winter Palace.”

“Smile Inquisitor, there are many eyes upon us,” Leliana said through her own light expression. “At least now, we know the true extent of the Dragon's Breath.”

Cirilla shook her head, practiced at schooling her expression but finding it difficult around the mess that was her current situation. She could already feel the false smile cracking. “You think the 'Dragon's Breath' is these gaatlock barrels?”

“Of course. A surprise attack, even through the Eluvians, would have met fierce resistance. But if everyone at the Exalted Council died in an explosion, the South would be rudderless, vulnerable to attack. This is what Corypheus _should_ have done after the explosion at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. An attack as swift and unstoppable as the breath of a dragon,” Leliana explained with confidence.

Cirilla sighed. “The guard who confronted the servant said she found this note near one of the barrels. It's orders from the Qunari. The good news is, it gives us a lead. It lays out how they want the gaatlok positioned around the palace, and then says, 'When duty has been performed, report to the Viddasala through the mirror marked by a bookcase'. I need to find that Eluvian. If we're going to find the Viddasala and stop this Dragon's Breath, this is our chance.” The sky was darkening to a deep purple as the sun slowly made it's way toward the horizon, painting it with pinks and oranges. Had they really spent the entire day rushing around like chickens without heads at the surprise invasion?

“Good. While you do that, I will have agents locate the gaatlock barrels and remove them safely,” Leliana said, her smile remaining. “I will also send word to my foreign contacts. We must see where else this dragon could strike.”


	19. Hero in Every Port (The Ballad of Nuggins)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wrapping up Cirilla's tale

No one had a word to say as they made their way through the Crossroads, following another new path that had sprung up since the last time they were there. At the top of the path, a small library stood only two bookcases on either side of the wall, but it was enough. There was an eluvian sitting just past the shelves, shimmering and open. "An eluvian marked by a bookshelf. This should be it."

"Good." Bull responded. "Time to get some answers from the Viddasala.

On the other side of the eluvian, the library was reflected, though it extended farther than the four shelves they had passed. All over the floors and tables, books and parchment were strewn. The far end of the room had been blasted away and papers flew up and out to flit along with the breeze. "Is this some sort of old elven library?" she mused, her voice carrying oddly on the moist air around them. The architecture, what was left of it at least, was definitely elven. "Let's hope we can track down the Viddasala in all this."

When they made it to the broken end of the room, it became clear where they were and Sera began to panic. She started to pant out short breaths and shook her head wildly. "The Fade. Not good. I would... rather be... anywhere else!" When Varric's hand landed on her arm, she inhaled deeply and shot a glare at Cirilla. "I mean, please yourself, Inquisitor Herald, but really. Let's kill everything and be anywhere else!"

They followed a curving staircase that barely existed anymore, the endless abyss of nothingness laid bare beneath them. At the bottom, a spirit hovered, watching them curiously. It didn't seem aggressive, and Cirilla was prepared to ignore it until it spoke. "Andaran atish'an, mirthadra elvhen."

It's words seemed directed at Sera and again, Sera balked. "Andaran...? Why's it talking to me? Don't talk to me. You make me dizzy."

Cirilla reached back and took Sera's hand comfortingly as the spirit responded. "If you wish, honored elvhen, I will speak so your guests understand. I am Study," it introduced itself in a feminine voice. "I am a learning thirst. Come, know what has not been lost. New words. New stories. The Qunari would not approach, but we learned their words as well. If you wish to exchange knowledge, they congregate by the lower gate."

Cirilla wanted an exchange with the Qunari, but not necessarily knowledge. Looking around the ruin of the library, she asked the spirit. "What did the old elves use this place for?"

She felt a wash of excitement as the spirit realized she wished for knowledge. "This is the Vir Dirthara. The living knowledge of the empire. The libraries of every city. The wisdom of every court. A connecting place whose paths are now in disarray." The spirit was not kidding. The place was a wreck.

"What put this place into 'disarray'?" she asked.

"The Vir Dirthara was made with world and Fade. When they sundered, so did we. Paths broke. Knowledge fragmented. Many were trapped. I preserve their last words."

"What were these old elves' 'last words'?" Cirilla asked respectfully.

The spirit's tone went monotonous as she recited, " 'What happened? Where are the paths? Where are the paths? Gods save me, the floor is gone. Do not let me fall. Do not let me...' On this spot, that is all."

Cirilla cringed as Bull rolled his shoulders in discomfort, stepping more closely to the middle of the path. "Thanks. Really paints a picture."

"I'm looking for a Qunari called Viddasala. Do you know what she wants here?" Cirilla wondered.

"Viddasala," the spirit pondered. "Yes. She uses scholars and mages for study. They fear this place, but they seek to know the Veil."

"What does Viddasala want to know about the Veil?" Cirilla asked curiously.

"I regret I do not have more information. I am sundered from myself. If you discover another one of me nearer the Qunari, I may know more. Kindly give it my greetings. I have not thought with myself for some time."

Cirilla nodded her thanks, wishing she could get more from the spirit about the history of the place, but they had a mission and her Mark was stabbing white hot needles of pain up her arm. "We'll be going now."

"Know this..." the spirit warned. "An unknown person, not of the Qunari, recently woke the Librarians."

"An unknown person? Could this be our agent of Fen'Harel?" Cirilla mused.

"The Librarians facilitated learning before the fracture. Before the fall. Now, beware them. They are unwell."

Leaving 'Study' to her business, Cirilla led the others, Sera by the hand, up the next section of the path. At the top stood an odd artifact that looked like an over sized Faberge egg. It was a light red, trimmed in gold, and had an indentation on it's side that was shaped like a hand print. The path ahead of them was crumbled to nothing, wide gaps between one bit of ground and the next making it impossible to cross. As she looked ahead, she happened to glance up and saw, "There! Qunari. On that... upside-down island?"

She stared in awe as Sera heaved. "How are they not chucking their guts just constantly?"

Cirilla approached the egg, the Mark humming with something that was not agony at the nearness of the object. She reached out tentatively as Bull rumbled his disapproval. Her hand laid flat in the hand print, her fingers less long than the person who had made it before. She had an inkling that Sera's palm would have fit perfectly, though she didn't point that out. The magic of the object hummed around her and large flat slabs of rock lifted from the rubble around them to hover toward the gaps between ruins. "That repaired some of the steps!" Cirilla said excitedly. "Let's look around for more. The inverted eluvian must lead to the Qunari."

She made her way toward the hovering stones and made to step on them. She was suddenly yanked back by her coat. "Seriously? Without testing it first?" Bull grumbled. He muttered a few curses in Qunlat under his breath. He moved ahead of her and took his ax from his back. He set the head on the nearest stone and pushed down. The path didn't budge. "Better safe than sorry," he grumbled, allowing her to pass him as she rolled her eyes and patted his chest with a soft chuckle. She stepped onto the narrow path that was barely wide enough to cross, taking overly wide steps to get over it and refusing to look down into the abyss below while the wind tugged at the tails of her coat. Once her boots were on 'solid' ground again, she noted another break a few feet ahead, so she diverted to the only other direction available. There was an eluvian sat open at the bottom of an incline that may have once been stairs. She approached it and stepped through.

On the other side, while the others were still coming through the eluvian, she had enough time to see one of the elven metal trees sparking with energy before it licked toward her and exploded the Mark. She whimpered and shook out the sensation as it jabbed pain clear up to her jaw. When it faded, she looked around, the others joining her. They were in another courtyard surrounded by bookshelves. Above their heads, another section sat upside down, making her dizzy when she looked at it. Two eluvians sat at the tops of two different staircases in opposite corners of the back of the courtyard. Cirilla, with her eyes firmly on the ground, headed for the one on her left first. On the other side, another of the trees haloed in licking magic stood and she braced for another jolt that didn't come. Thankfully, she passed the thing and saw a few dead Qunari propped against a wall that might have once been a staircase. She knelt by the nearest body and investigated, only to come up empty. Glancing at the rest briefly, she frowned. "These Qunari are dead, but there's not a mark on them."

"Backs hunched, eyes wide open..." Bull observed with a hint of discomfort in his voice. "They were scared shitless when they died."

Leaving the bodies, she followed the only available path up the former staircase behind them. At the top, hovering in the way of another eluvian, was another piece of Study. "Welcome. Welcome," it said excitedly. "Listen to the last words of those who lived past the fall. 'How could the Dread Wolf cast a Veil between the world that wakes and the world that dreams?' 'The Evanuris will send people. They will save us!' 'When have you last heard from the gods? When the veil came down, they went silent!' 'What is this veil? What has Fen'Harel done'?” Just as swiftly as it recited the words, Study disappeared.

Cirilla frowned, her head tipping in curiosity. “Are these 'records' saying Fen'Harel _created_ the veil between our world and the Fade?”

Sera made a squeak of protest. "That... can't be true. Veil's always been there. No one made it!"

They passed through the eluvian and as they followed the terrace it dropped them on, Bull growled angrily. "Floating crap, magic mirror crap, evil demon crap... This is like the Fade, only with falling to your death on top. When this is over, I'm gonna need somebody to hit me with a stick again."

"That works," Cera giggled hesitantly. "It isn't over, and I _already_ want to hit things with sticks."

"Whatever works for you, Tiny," Varric chuckled.

Then Bull nudged her. "Next time we get the gang back together, let's do a dragon instead. Dragon's are fun."

She smiled up at him, hoping that there was a next time for her. It was looking increasingly like the Anchor was going to spread throughout her entire body and kill her like it had threatened to do in the beginning until Solas had done whatever he did to stop it. He wasn't around to help anymore.

The section they had come out on was some sort of study room, the remaining walls covered in murals that reminded her of the Solarium back at Skyhold. The papers lying on the tables looked newer and slightly more real that the others perpetually fluttering around the Library. She picked them up and noticed Qunlat. She could read the words, but the notes made no sense to her. "This looks like... Technical notes? What did the Qunari come here to learn?"

Bull took the paper from her and his eye scanned the contents. "They're _real_ technical. I can't make out any, either. Something about magic, that's it."

Nearby, she found another of the eggs and touched her palm to it. "These blocks are heading toward that upside down eluvian."

"Creepy," Bull rumbled. "Helpful, but creepy."

"It's a place of learning," she shrugged. "Maybe this 'Vir Dirthara' is helping us find what we need?"

Bull shoved her lightly as she turned to retrace their steps back to the courtyard, having exhausted this section. "Now it's even weirder," he complained.

They met a bit of Qunari resistance on the way back, near the corpses they had found, but it seemed the Qunari were so disturbed by the Fade around them that they were not fighting properly. Their hard earned discipline was failing them. Cirilla thoughtlessly crossed through the eluvian into the courtyard with Bull on her heels. The licking magic from the tree snapped across the room and drug a strangled cry from her throat and she grabbed her wrist to control her jerking arm. Bull grabbed her arm as she felt the prickling of the magic spreading and changing the Mark again. He gave her a stony glare when she tried to tug her arm back. He held her fast and pulled her glove off her hand and rolled her sleeve up, making her hiss in discomfort as the extent of the toxicity was revealed. His eye widened and he said stoically, "That's really not getting better, Boss."

"The pain's stopped," she said softly, pulling her arm from his grip, the hurt in his voice and his choice of nickname, clenching like a vice around her heart.

"It keeps coming back," Varric mumbled softly, having seen the ruin of her arm as well.

Bull grudgingly handed her glove back and she pulled it back on and readjusted her gear. She steeled herself, swallowing the pain and sadness and pressing forward. She would stop the Viddasala if it was the last thing she did.

Through the next eluvian, they found more dead Qunari that looked like they had been scared to death, and another piece of Study. “Welcome, and listen to the last words of those who walked this place. 'If we get out of here, I will end Fen'Harel!' 'After he held back the sky to imprison the gods, the Dread Wolf disappeared.' 'Lies! We must tear down the veil! The cities, the pathways... without magic, they're crumbling!' 'You're wasting your time. Fen'harel's veil has turned our empire to ruins'.” The spirit recited before disappearing like the last one.

Cirilla frowned, focusing her thoughts away from herself and from Bull's tense shoulders and hurt gaze that kept flicking to her. “So, the ancient elven empire collapsed because the Veil weakened magic?”

"If the old elves relied on magic even more than the Vints, no wonder things went to crap when it dried up," Bull mused.

Varric tugged the sleeve of her right arm. "Ribbons, you let even a handful of scholars into this place, you'll rewrite everything." His eyes flicked to her hand and he shrugged. "I mean, apart from all those other times you rewrote everything."

She smirked and rolled her eyes before passing through the next eluvian. They spread out in the much smaller room that was scattered with papers. Varric picked up a book with a curious expression that quickly turned grumpy. "What the... I never wrote this!" he dropped the book back on the table and Cirilla saw it was titled Hard in Hightown, but there was no Chapter number as there normally would be. She crept over to the book after Varric abandoned it and opened to the first page. It was an odd addition to the series where the main character Donnen, a city guard in Kirkwall, had opened a tavern on the Amaranthine Coast. She didn't get very far when Varric spoke again. "You think we could take a couple of these books back with us?"

Sera snorted negatively. "Trying to take them is just asking for it. They're probably demony."

Varric shrugged, stroking the spine of a nearby book on a shelf near his height. "I've never read an elven novel. I wonder what kind of stories they told."

Cirilla had to admit, his observation piqued her own interest in history and stories. There was so little left of elven culture, and from what they were observing, she was beginning to see why. Letting out a reluctant sigh, she dragged herself from the fascinating books and toward the egg in the nearby nook. "That should be enough stairs," she said, watching the ones she lifted head for the last bit of empty space. "Let's see if we can reach the inverted eluvian now."

More Qunari resistance met them, apparently, the soldiers looking for their fallen brethren. They were a trifle compared to what met them next. Cirilla breathed a sigh of relief as she stepped back into the courtyard and the tree seemed to be out of magic to shock her. The relief was short lived when from the bookshelves seeped horrifying spirits that resembled the form of the Nightmare demon's avatar. The entire room went icy cold and Cirilla's heart skipped. "_They're_ the Librarians?" she guessed, her voice choked. One of the translucent creatures shouted angrily, with an eldritch voice, in elven before throwing magic at them.

"Not good!" Varric pointed out, firing a few bolts at it before moving out of the way of the little fear spiders that fell off the bodies of the Librarians.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" Sera cursed, smashing one of her potions on her chest and making lightning spark from her. Four arrows, one for each spirit, left her bow before Cirilla even saw her move.

One of the spirits bolted for Cirilla and in a panic, she discharged the Anchor to throw the barrier up around her to protect against it's slashing claws. The charge burst from her palm casting the barrier and slamming outwards, knocking the spirits all back a few paces and killing the chittering spiders. When she had felt the Anchor change, apparently, it had become a grenade that she was the center of. With no time to gawp at her own hand as the spirit recovered, she gripped her daggers and danced into action. Setting off the convenient Mark a few more times allowed them to take down the Librarians with few injuries.

Cirilla hurried forward after they dropped, not wishing to spend more time discussing the new ability when the Viddasala could be escaping. The eggs had served their purpose, the path to the inverted eluvian completed, in spite of it's heart pounding narrowness. When she stepped through the mirror, her stomach flipped as she came out on the upside down island. There was a brief vertigo following the exit and she shook her head before looking around. They were surrounded. The Qunari that had been on the island all converged around the mirror. Determinedly, Cirilla stood her ground and glared at them all, searching for the Viddasala. They stood on a narrow entryway guarded by a rail in front of them that seperated it from a rectangular pool of shallow water. A few raised daises spotted both sides of the wide open area, and even more bookshelves were huddled in alcoves between them. From their left, a deep, yet feminine voice spoke. "Survivor of the Breach. Herald of change. Hero of the South."

She turned and saw a Qunari female standing atop one of the daises, a collared Saarebas pacing agitatedly at her side. She wore Qunari plate armor over top of what they referred to as Antaam-saar, a light set of gear that barely covered her ample features. Her war paint, known as vitaar to the Qunari trailed down her shoulders and arms, lightening her greyish skin. Her horns swept back from her face unlike Bull's that pointed outwards, and she had four instead of two, the smaller ones tucked below the larger. Cirilla glared at her as Sera let out a nervous, appreciative laugh. "The Viddasala, I presume." Cirilla crossed her arms in defiance.

"Wow," Sera whispered in lusty admiration.

"After fulfilling your purpose at the Breach it is astonishing to hear you still walked free among your people," the Viddasala continued without even responding to Cirilla's defiance. "Your duty is done, Inquisitor. It is time to end your magic."

"The Anchor repairs tears in the Veil. I would think you'd approve of that," Cirilla countered.

The Viddasala glared, a single brow rising in disbelief. "Is that all it does? Tell me, why hold your hand as if it's begun to pain you?" Cirilla relaxed her balled fist, playing aloof. How could she know anything about the Anchor? "I am no stranger to catastrophe, but this chaos in the South defies comprehension. The Qun left your people to curb your own magic. You've amply proven we should have stepped in long ago."

"Is that what Dragon's Breath is for?" Cirilla demanded. "Murdering our heads of state just to control our magic?"

"Do you believe closing the Breach solved everything, that its consequences stopped there?" The Viddasala asked. "The day we saw the Breach, the Qun decided its action. We would remove your leaders and spare those who toil. This agent of Fen'Harel has disrupted everything. Lives that were to be spared, lost for him!"

"Who is this agent? Why would you think they work for the Inquisition?" Cirilla wondered.

The Viddasala waved a hand of dismissal and turned toward the eluvian behind her. "Kill the Inquisitor, then follow me to the Darvaarad." She ordered before passing through the eluvian and taking the giant twitchy saarebas with her.

The Qunari swarmed them almost immediately. To give them all a bit of breathing room, Cirilla crouched down and discharged the Anchor, slamming back the front line. Then she pulled the shadows around herself and slipped out of the circle of remaining aggressors. Momentarily stunned and confused, the Qunari paused looking for their main target, and giving her companions a chance to start to whittle them down. Bull stepped up first, swinging his ax in an arc before him and knocking back another row of enemies. Magic started to crackle along the water where Cirilla had ended up. She jetted from the pool as quickly as she could before the deadly sparks could reach her. She glanced around, hunting for the saarebas. It hovered hear a collection of tables across from where the Viddasala had left. She darted as quickly as she could through the fray, dipping under ax swings and rolling out of the way of falling mauls. Still cloaked in shadow, the saabrebas had lost sight of her when she had left the water, no longer splashing with every footstep. Singing softly to power her enchantments she slipped around the saarebas and jabbed her dagger up through his heart. His back arched as she buried her blade hilt deep, slick warm blood cascading over her hand as she twisted the dagger to open the wound wider. The magic he had prepared sputtered out and she pulled her arm free before he fell backwards dancing out of the way of the toppling corpse. Checking on the others, they only had a few Qunari left to kill. Cirilla left them to it, choosing to rummage through the notes on the table beside her.

When the final warrior fell, Bull jogged over to her and laid a hand on her back. She nodded at him with a smile and held up the papers she had been reading. "These are Viddasala's papers. She brought mages here to research strengthening the Veil."

"A way to clamp down magic? No wonder she's here," he mused, reading over her shoulder, his body pressed close to her.

Cirilla nodded. "It explains why the Qunari thought it was worth camping here." She set the paper down and moved to push forward, but he stopped her.

"I'm sorry, Kadan," he said so softly that she barely heard it. She glanced around and Sera and Varric were looting through the Qunari bodies across the field. Then she looked up at him, turning in his arms. "I'm used to being in control, but this..." He held up her pulsing hand. "I don't know how to fix this and..." he growled low in his chest, looking away from her and upwards. "I _definitely_ need to be hit with a stick again."

Bull had described her hitting him with the stick as a Qunari training exercise to master your fear. Bull was scared. She reached up with the hand not currently nestled in his much larger palm and touched his face. He turned into her touch, closing his eye, his breath escaping in a heavy sigh that if she didn't know better she might say was ragged with unshed tears. She said nothing, simply allowed him to hold her close for a moment until his eye came open again. She had no empty words for him. Anything she said would be a lie and she was incapable of lying to him. When he looked at her, she offered him another empty smile and he squeezed his hand around her hip before backing away, the tender moment over as the others approached them. Varric held something in his hand, and after eyeing the both warily, he approached and handed it to Cirilla. It looked like a Keystone. She pocketed it and shuffled through a few more papers. Clearing her throat around the knot lodged in it, she said, "No wonder the Qunari translated notes into our language. It was for their non-Qunari spies."

Bull hummed as if their entire encounter had not taken place, falling back behind his stoic mask. "They'd have to. You know as well as I do, Qunlat's not an easy one to learn."

They left the space, finding no way up to the mirror that the Viddasala had gone through. On the way, they ran into another fragment of Study. "Visitors. Patrons. Welcome. The halls are open."

“Can you tell me where the Qunari called the Viddasala went?” Cirilla asked gently as the spirit hovered excitedly before her.

“Yes. We heard much, although she fooled herself into thinking we could not hear. 'Take a keystone to the Darvaarad. I will join you there soon, and take stock of our remaining gaatlock powder'.”

Cirilla took the stone that Varric had brought her from her pocket and held it up. “We found a keystone with one of the Qunari.”

“Yes. And you need words for their key. 'Maraas nehraa'. It glows. It will open the way to the Darvaarad. May you find what you seek. In coming here, you strengthened the paths. I can now raise one if you wish to go.”

“You've been very helpful...uh...” Cirilla said as the stones surrounding them lifted up and floated behind the spirit to create a path to the eluvian ahead.

“Ghil-Dirthalen,” the spirit offered it's name. “was what the elvhen called me. 'One who guides seekers of knowledge true'. I was _connection._ One city could read the records of another, one elvhen feel the memories of another. When the Veil fell upon us, I marked the end of all they knew."

The spirit faded and Cirilla headed for the mirror across the newly erected bridge. "We've got to find this Darvaarad and corner Viddasala there."

"We need to be prepared," Bull cautioned. "We should go back to the Winter Palace and check in, restock our potions."

The pulsing of her hand demanded urgency, but Bull was right. They had no idea what they would be walking into on the other side of the eluvian to the Darvaarad. That's how she found herself stuffed back in the tiny room that Leliana, Josephine, and Cullen had turned into a makeshift war room. She paced again, balling and un-balling her hand around the pulsing agony. “Your agents confirm there are gaatlock barrels in Denerim's palace?” Josephine asked Leliana.

“Yes, and in Val Royeaux, and across the Free Marches. The Winter Palace is not the only target,” Leliana confirmed with a nod.

"The Qunari are one order from destroying every noble house in the known world,” Cullen sighed, his eyes following her pacing with an odd frown. She knew he could tell there was something wrong. At this point it was obvious in her clipped tone and urgency.

“There is a bright side,” Josephine said with mild positivity. “Warning the ambassadors will remind them of the Inquisition's value.”

“Not when the Inquisition is responsible for the threat,” Leliana said, shaking her head.

Cirilla stopped, suddenly interested. “I take it you have new information,” she said, resuming her small nervous circles her fist clenched against the throbbing.

“The elven servant handling the barrels confessed to working for the Qunari,” Leliana explained.

“But the servant was Orlesian,” Josephine said with a frown. “That implicates Orlais, not us.”

“But the barrels arrived at the Winter Palace on the Inquisition's supply manifest.” Leliana continued.

Cullen dropped his gaze and sighed. “How are we supposed to fight a war when we can't even trust our own people?”

“Do you know who got the barrels onto the Inquisition's manifest?” Cirilla prodded.

“Yes," Leliana said excitedly. “Several of the Inquisition's elven workers have gone missing. I had their backgrounds checked. They joined the Inquisition after fleeing the chaos in Kirkwall.”

“I remember when Kirkwall was at it's worst,” Cullen growled. “Many of the city's elves converted to the Qun, trying to find a better life.”

“And the Qunari turned them into spies,” Josephine concluded with a gasp.

Cirilla stopped pacing and eased her fist open to cross her arms casually. “We can't change what happened, only how we react to it now.”

Josephine looked at her angrily. “I fought to protect the Inquisition in this Exalted Council, and for what? So we could deceive and threaten those we claimed to protect?”

“Once we locate the spies...” Cullen said gently.

“This isn't _about_ the spies!” Josephine shouted, her voice wavering. “You hid the Qunari body," she accused Leliana. "You've all but seized control of the Winter Palace!” she railed at Cullen.

“We did what was right, not what was politically convenient!” Cullen shouted back.

“Do you know what this has cost us with Orlais and Ferelden? They are planning to dismantle us as we speak!” Josephine growled. Then she hung her head. “And perhaps they are right...”

Before the argument could go further, the anchor flared, blinding Cirilla temporarily as her legs nearly gave out from under her. A ragged cry escaped her throat and she whimpered, grabbing hold of the out of control limb with her opposite arm and hugging it to her chest. Her advisers all rounded the desk, concern and confusion on all their faces. She had hoped to keep the anchor a secret as long as possible while they fought this battle with the Viddasala, but apparently it had other ideas, glowing brightly and sparking momentarily before fading beck into the numbing throb that she had become accustomed to. She owed them an explanation. Drawing in a breath, she choked out her secret. "So... it's been getting worse. I don't know why. I don't know how to stop it. I don't know how much time I've got left.” She breathed in and out, her heart racing with her own terror. “What I do know is that the Qunari need to be stopped. So I need to get to the Darvaarad while I can still fight," she finished with a sigh.

“Thank you, Inquisitor,” Leliana said meekly.

“Would you... would you like us to inform the Exalted Council of the danger?” Josephine asked, her lip quivering and her eyes wide.

“Yes," Cirilla managed to say around the mounting tears that her friends' reactions were trying to bring to the surface. "If we fail, the Exalted Council needs to know what happened.”

“I will inform them personally,” Leliana said softly.

“Leliana, I can...” Josephine offered.

“No. Your job is hard enough already. This is my responsibility,” Leliana insisted.

Cullen cleared his throat, his voice shaky when he spoke. “I'll have guards ready at the Eluvian, in case the Qunari attack the palace.”

“Maker watch over you,” Leliana said sadly.

Cirilla wished, as she left them with a bitter farewell smile, that she could have as much faith in the Maker's help. If He had intended to help, the Anchor would not be betraying her. Bull wouldn't have to be so terrified. She knew when they got together that he had intended their affair to be a temporary physical thing. He had never meant to fall in love. Qunari didn't fall in love. Qunari didn't marry. She had brought something so pure as love into his reality, and now, without choice, she was snatching it away from him. It wasn't fair. She wanted to shout, wanted to rail against her fate, but it would do her no good. She went to see Dorian, but he had no good news for her. She left him with a hug that nearly crushed her bones as he sniffed back his tears. She could tell he felt guilty for not being able to do more for her.

Finally, she rejoined her crew and they passed into the eluvian, stepping into the Crossroads. "Nightingale told us what happened with your hand," Varric said quietly after they reached the other side.

Bull's own carefully resigned voice spoke next. "So this is it, huh?"

She turned, heedless of Sera and Varric and took Bull's hand lightly in hers. "Whatever happens, I wouldn't trade the years we've had together for anything. I love you."

Bull reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear with his free hand, smiling with his usual teasing grin. "Love you too, Kadan."

Varric cleared his throat and pulled his crossbow free. "All right, Bianca. Let's show all the tall people how it's done, one last time."

"Right. Last time to be legend," Sera let out an excited laugh to mask her sadness. "Try to keep up!"

Cirilla shook her head with a snort and pulled the keystone from her pocket so she could follow the humming glow to the eluvian it unlocked. "The Darvaarad. All right, everyone. Get ready." She spoke the words that the spirit had given her, and the mirror burst to life. She put the keystone away and stepped through. On the other side, they were spilled onto the approach to a huge fortress. From what she could see in the darkness that had settled around the world, they were definitely in Qunari territory. Massive statues of almost naked Qunari dotted the keep among the ivy and other greenery that trailed u the side of the building. The air was humid, drawing sweat to her brow almost immediately as she gazed around at the collection of shattered eluvians piled up around them. "Where did the Qunari get all these?" she gasped in amazement at the eluvian graveyard. "How long have they been studying eluvians?" She picked her way through the clear, narrow path through the broken glass and bent frames. "The sooner we stop this invasion plan, the better."

The Qunari had an Arvaarad guarding the approach, a collared saarebas at the heel of his keepers. Cirilla slipped into the shadows as she had before and dipped among the keepers to gut the saarebas before he could cast a spell, her companions taking out the rest. Once the way was cleared, they started across the long bridge to the Keep. Half way there, the Anchor flared, tripping her and making her cry out. Bull was at her side, steadying her, with a wild look on his face. "Kadan! You all right?"

She bit her lip and clenched her fist. When she spoke, her voice came out in a waver. "We should hurry." She could feel the mark had spread, without even seeing it. Her entire arm ached up to the middle of her bicep and the glow refused to subside, magic crackling insistently in a halo around her palm.

"So, about this war..." Varric said, breaking the heavy silence as they followed the bridge. "You know things didn't end well for Kirkwall the last time the Qunari got angry. Really hope we settle this fast. I've seen all the burning cities I ever want to see."

Up a grand staircase, Bull stopped them at the top in a wide courtyard that held a guardhouse, and whispered. "Watch the patrol. You want to take them out one at a time, fast, or we'll have a mess on our hands."

They split up, Bull taking out the closest threat and she Varric and Sera stealthily handling the circling patrols. In one of the outbuildings, Cirilla discovered a number of magical artifacts from all over Thedas. It made her wonder what exactly the Qunari had been looking for. Nothing matched, and she was surprised to find an astrarium and a strange glowing pyramid that hummed with a sticky kind of magic. There was even a pile of red lyrium crystals. She rejoined the others after examining the collection and they made their way into the gatehouse to work the mechanisms that would open the gigantic vault door blocking their way inside the fortress.

Once inside they passed through a sort of barracks where Qunari swarmed them from just about everywhere, but she managed to use the anchor to set off a few piles of gaatlok barrels, the barrier around her and her friends saving them from the explosions and killing the Qunari. Down the stairs from the barracks, the Anchor flared again, blurring her vision. Again, Bull was at her side and Varric said with growing concern. "Hang in there. Someone back at the Palace has to be able to help."

She wanted to believe him, but Dorian had been working on it, and if he couldn't think of a way to help, it was likely there would be nothing they could do in the short time she had left. She muddled through, grinding her teeth against the sparking and flaring bursts of magic that seared her nerve endings raw. In a wide open storage room below the barracks, she found more magical artifacts and some missives written in Qunlat. "I know loot lists when I see them," Sera identified without even needing to translate the language. "Tracking their stuff like a fat fence. But... they don't sell it? And they're well fit."

Suddenly it clicked in Cirilla's aching brain. "Morrigan said the key to an eluvian could be anything... including knowledge or power. So they're stockpiling both. That's how they got the keystone and opened so many of the eluvians we've seen."

"Hopefully they don't have any more ancient magic crap to throw at us," Bull grumbled, looking around the room. Then his eye lit up. "That Dragon skull would make a wicked armchair, though. Maybe we could take it back to Skyhold after this?"

She flinched as he maintained an outwardly positive, if not mildly naive, attitude. It was likely she would never see Skyhold again, let alone getting to see Bull break in his armchair. Her chest clenched as they left the storage room. The hall led past some cells and into a factory that at first glance was where they produced gaatlok. Across the factory floor, through a wall sized window, she saw a flash of green scales and a puff of dark green smoke before a loud roar rumbled the entire keep. " 'Dragon's Breath' is... an actual dragon?" she gasped in surprise, forgetting that they were supposed to be stealthy with her shock.

One of the Qunari watching the dragon thrash around in the next room spun at her exclamation. "Teth a! Bas!" he shouted.

The Viddasala came charging from one of the rooms above to see what the threat was. When she spotted Cirilla and the others, she started issuing orders. "Inquisition! Nehraa Ataashi-asaara meravas adim kata!" A saarebas and some other foot soldiers teemed into the room from below and then the Viddasala turned her gaze on Bull. "Hissrad! Now, please. Vinek kathas."

Without flinching, Bull hefted his ax and said, "Not a chance, ma'am."

The bitch had actually tried to get Bull to turn on her. Cirilla watched as the Viddasala lost something that she had seen as a sure thing. She knew that his transition to Tal-Vashoth had been trying, and had this been two years ago, she might have lost him to the chance to rejoin his people. Instead, he turned a wink on her with a half grin before charging at the rest of the Qunari. He was hers. Unconditionally. His loyalty sparked a fire in her. He deserved for her to fight with everything she had left. Using the Anchor, she blasted the barrels all around the factory, leaving the Qunari little chance. The ones not killed in the blast fell to their blades and their bows.

When the fight was done, Varric gathered up a few of his bolts and said gruffly. "You okay, Tiny?"

Bull chuckled, moving to Cirilla's side to grip her shoulder lovingly. "The Iron Bull is just fine. When this is over, drinks are on me. Probably a lot of 'em." He squeezed gently and looked down at her. "You ready to finish this, Kadan?"

"Let's go kick the Viddasala's ass," she grinned, flicking the excess blood from her daggers to re-sheathe them and spread more poison along the edges.

"Damn right!" he agreed loudly, giving her ass a sharp smack that knocked her forward a step, making her laugh as Varric and Sera started for the exit.

The Viddasala was in the chamber with the dragon, trying to simultaneously protect it from them, and keep it from mauling her people. Jets of poison burst from it's nostrils and throat every few minutes, but Cirilla could tell that the dragon was loosing it's will. "So, Boss," Bull asked calmly as they watched the scene before them. "We gonna fight the dragon or what?"

"They pulled so much... _life_ or something out of her," Sera protested, a grimace of hatred spreading across her face. "That's not... Ugh! How'd they ruin fighting a dragon?"

Varric pointed out the tracks on the ground beneath the dragon's feet. Jets of fire spurted from nozzles affixed on tracks around the rings, keeping the dragon relatively in place. Cirilla bolted for the nearest gear to work out the pattern to free the dragon. She needed to turn the nozzles so they were all closer to where they stood, corralling the dragon toward the closed gates on the far side of the room.

While she worked, her friends handled crowd control, keeping the Qunari off of them. The Viddasala kept shouting orders. Sera grumbled. "Why do the pretty ones have to run their mouths! Dragon first, then right up her business!"

Once the dragon was in place, Cirilla vaulted over the rail in front of her and dashed across the room as fast as she could go, hoping the dragon didn't see her. She was mostly preoccupied with the Qunari all around her with spears, trying to drive her back toward the fires. One of the spears hurtled toward Cirilla as the Qunari realized what she was doing. She jumped over it, the long wooden pole nearly tripping her as it lodged in the ground beneath her feet.Dodging a few more spears, she rushed toward the lever that controlled the gate. Lifting the heavy metal lever made a grinding sound and the gate crept upwards. Cirilla hopped from the ledge and ran for the second lever to lower the bottom gate. She yanked it down, using all of her weight to drag the lever out of its corroded position. "Oh! This will be legend!" Sera shouted as the dragon spun on Cirilla, hearing the gates coming to life.

All aggression from the dragon ceased and it tipped it's head at her in curiosity. She nodded slightly, tipping her own head toward the freedom that awaited the dragon. The Qunari realized they were in trouble and the ones left in the pit began to scatter. The black and green scales of the dragon glittered in the moonlight as she bounded from the cage, trampling the fleeing Qunari beneath her massive bulk. One of them she grabbed in her talons as she took off, sailing for the skies. Cirilla could just make out the silhouette of the Qunari as the dragon dropped him over the roaring sea below. As her friends joined her, she followed the dragon out and saw the Viddasala hustling the last of her troops through an eluvian across the bridge they stood on. Cirilla ran as close as she could get until the line of Qunari before her crossed their spears, blocking her way. "Parshaara!" the Viddasala shouted. Before Cirilla could say a word, the Anchor flared to life, forcing her other hand around her forearm to keep it from jerking wildly. She attempted to muffle the agonized shout that left her lips, but it was no use. Never had she felt pain like this. "Dear Inquisitor," Viddasala clucked her tongue. "You have such little time left. You must finally see the truth." As she talked, more of her troops passed through the eluvian. "Elven magic already tore the sky apart. If the agents of Fen'Harel are not stopped, you will shatter the world as well."

Cirilla growled back at her through teeth gritted against the pain. "The Inquisition has nothing to do with these agents."

"Come, Inquisitor. I am the eyes and ears of the Qunari people. Do you think you can deceive me?" She shook her head and gestured toward the flaring mark. "You would have died from the mark on your hand, but for the help of one of their chief agents. The same agent who helped seal the Breach. Who led you to Skyhold. Who gave Corypheus the orb, then founded the Inquisition. Solas, agent of Fen'Harel."

"Damn it, Chuckles. What've you _done_?" Varric gasped in surprise.

Cirilla swiped her hand downwards. "Whatever Solas is involved in, I am nobody's puppet."

"Even now, you refuse to see the strings," Viddasala chided. "Solas tricked us all. _He_ pushed a dying Qunari into the Winter Palace, to lure you into opposing us. Without him, we could have brought the South peace and wisdom along the gentle path. Now we must take the way of blades." The mark flared again, cutting off the Viddasala with Cirilla's anguished cry. The sparking and jolting magic dragged her to her knees and she huddled around her arm, blinded by the flashes of pain throughout all of her nerve endings, clutching it with the other arm as the episode passed. "Panahedan, Inquisitor," the Viddasala said respectfully. "If it is any consolation, Solas will not outlive you."

The last of the Qunari passed through the eluvian as Cirilla dragged herself back onto her feet. Her whole left side tingling, she limped for the eluvian. "Solas it the only one who can help with my mark. We find him before Viddasala does."

She was livid. She had known that she hadn't trusted Solas. He had been playing them all along. She picked up speed as the flare up receded briefly. Through the eluvian, was an overgrown path through what looked like elven ruins. She was about tired of looking at elven architecture. "There! On them!" Sera cried as a group of Qunari disappeared through an archway above them.

Cirilla gave chase, climbing the first set of stairs and splashing through a small body of water at the top of them. In the middle of the pool, the Anchor flared violently. She could feel the danger in the magic licking from her skin. "It's going to... everyone back!" she cried huddling her arm against her and putting her body between the mark and her friends. She had lost control of the magic and it melted down in spectacular fashion, splashing the water out in a spray around her. Even as it ended, she could feel the Anchor building up even faster than it had before. She was going to need to be careful not to hurt her friends. Varric was the first to approach her, helping her to her feet. "We've gotta stop this before it kills you. Assuming we find him, maybe Chuckles can help."

"Hated his 'too-smart-for-you' pity _before_ the whole agent-of-Fenny business. He better help. We're _owed_," Sera insisted, storming past Cirilla and Varric to lob a few arrows at some fleeing Qunari.

When they climbed as high as they could, there was a single eluvian below them to the left on the edge of a crumbling cliffside that looked like it had been sheered straight in half all at once. These ruins must have been like the Vir Dirthara, only on this side of the Fade. They were a mess. "Over there," Bull pointed to the eluvian. That's gotta be where Solas is." With the reactions of the mark, Cirilla could feel Bull shutting down, preparing himself for the worst. When some Qunari reappeared through the eluvian to try and waylay them, he fought mechanically. Cirilla discharged the Achor among them, relieving the building pressure that had caused the meltdown and finishing them off.

Through the eluvian, they emerged in a gully that was part of the same ruins. It seemed they were passing through an entire city from the size of the rubble around them. They caught the tail end of the Viddasala issuing orders to the soldiers before passing through another eluvian ahead with her ridiculously large saarebas in tow. Cirilla wondered just how much lyrium she had been feeding that thing to make it grow so large. There was no way it's size was natural.

Throughout the ruins, the Viddasala sent wave after wave of endless Qunari after them as she followed her own path, hunting for Solas. Cirilla was having to discharge the Anchor every few minutes now to prevent it from melting down. The next eluvian spat them out on a ridiculously long bridge surrounded by waterfalls and forest vegetation sprouting from the valley below. Cirilla would have loved to stop and take in the beautiful views, but the Anchor egged her on, magic swirling up around her entire body as she charged for large groups of Qunari soldiers and thrust her palm upwards to discharge the pressure. That had been close, it had nearly overflowed again. She did not relish living through that pain again.

In the next gully, the Viddasala finally sent her saarebas for them. The massive mage landed in thier midst with a burst of magic that sent them all flying backward. Cirilla landed hard on her back, the wind knocked from her lungs and skidded across the ground. Her head struck a small rock as she ground to a halt. She briefly saw two of the same saarebas coming for her as her vision swam and she rolled painstakingly to her knees. The Anchor was flickering again and she discharged it in his face, causing him to reach up blindly and grab at his face, opening up his middle. Bull rushed between her and the reeling saarebas, swinging his ax for the mage's exposed belly. It bounced off of his barrier, sending Bull to his knee. They needed to whittle down that barrier if they hoped to take this guy down. Cirilla got to her feet, her chest still aching and a trickle of blood finding it's way down the side of her face. She sliced at the mage with her poisoned blades, hoping that some of the poison might eat away at the barrier. As more Qunari flooded the field, Bull raged, throwing himself into the fray to hold off the horde as Cirilla, Varric and Sera figured out how to fix their saarebas problem. Slowly, the three of them cornered him, careful to not let him cast, interrupting his spells with timed heavy attacks. Bull shouted as he took on the rest of the Qunari. "Is that all you've got? I went through Seheron, you little shits!"

Just as the mage's barrier fell, Cirilla dropped to her knees and discharged the anchor again, slamming a wave of magic into the unprotected saarebas. He roared in outrage through his sewn up lips. He grabbed at his collar and with one swift move ripped it in half. "Saarebas! Meravas! _Meravas_!" the Viddasala shouted in frustration as the mage retreated. "You will not leave here, Inquisitor! Antaam, ebrashok adim!"

They gave chase through another gully, fighting the dregs of the Viddasala's forces until there was nothing left of her unit but herself, the ones she had sent ahead, and the saarebas. "All right!" Bull shouted. "Meravas katara!" _You will die, thing_, Bull taunted the saarebas.

"You are dead, Inquisitor! Your soul is dust!" The Viddasala shouted, leaving them with the saarebas and going through another eluvian.

They all converged on the beast. His spells were powerful. Nothing like she had ever seen. She was slowing down with the pain of the Anchor and one of his ice spells grazed her, reaching all of the way to her bones. She couldn't imagine what it would have felt like to be hit with the full spell. "Trust me!" Sera shouted, splashing her with some sort of water and then smashing one of her tiny artificer bottles against Cirilla's chest. Her clothes caught fire, blazing heat around her and warming her core, thawing the ice spell. As Cirilla thawed, the mage lifted his arms and cast a spell that summoned demons onto the field.

Cirilla fanned out with the others, before darting in to get in the middle of the demons and discharging the anchor before twirling in a circle, her daggers outstretched. The demons not killed by the discharge were finished off by her blades. The fight went on for ages it seemed, draining her of all of the stamina she had left. Finally, with one last blast from the Anchor, the mage fell and all of the magic crackling around the field went silent.

Desperate to catch up with the Viddasala, Cirilla got to her feet and darted for the mirror. It closed behind her and she immediately spun to pound on the glass. Alone, she forced herself to turn, her heart racing. She jumped back as a Qunari loomed over her, his spear raised above his head. She had a dagger to his throat before she realized he was made of stone. She tapped the blade curiously to the statue before laying her hand on it. It was warm to the touch, and her stomach sank, realizing that this was no statue, but an actual Qunari that had been petrified. At second glance, the entire area was filled with petrified Qunari. They were laid out in a pattern like a choreographed dance. She could almost picture the fight as the mage that had done this had used impressive footwork to cast his spells to land these Qunari in each position. She followed the pattern, dancing through the Qunari herself and as she moved, the realization hit her. She recognized the footwork. His abilities had increased significantly since she had seen him last.to have single-handedly taken all of these Qunari out. So much information had passed through her brain since the morning that Cirilla had not had time to process it through the jumble of emotions that had accompanied it. As she spun and stepped through the Qunari, recognized the footwork and automatically started to hum a tune to match the dance, her thoughts coalesced into a single truth that made her stomach flip.

She darted ahead as his voice sounded above the quiet all around. "Ebasit kata. Itwa-ost."

The Viddasala spoke next. "Maraas kata!"

"Your forces have failed. Leave now, and tell the Qunari to trouble me no further." Cirilla crested the stairs in time to see Solas walking away from the Viddasala toward an enormous eluvian.

The Viddasala lifted her spear, aiming to chuck it at Solas, a disgusted grunt escaping her lips as she did so. Solas stopped walking and without turning to look at her, she turned to stone, just like the others. After a brief moment, he continued toward the eluvian. "Solas!" Cirilla called after him, making him stop in his tracks.

He turned as she approached him, but the Anchor flared and dragged her to her knees before she could speak to him. His eyes flashed with white-blue magic and the Anchor ceased it's fit. Cirilla's arm immediately felt normal again. As she stood, she studied him and wondered if her theory could possibly be true. He wore shimmering golden armor resembling the gear that Abelas and the rest of the sentinels at Mythal's temple had worn. Draped over his right shoulder was a wolf skin. He still held the same haughty expression and still stood with his back rigid and his hands clasped behind his back. "That should give us more time," he said with a half smile. "I suspect you have questions." His statement didn't give her much hope that he had completely healed her.

Cirilla bit her lip. "The Qunari answered some of those questions. The information I found while traveling through the eluvians answered more. You're Fen'Harel. You're the Dread Wolf."

Solas seemed impressed by her for the first time ever. "Well done," he congratulated her. "I was Solas first. 'Fen'Harel' came later... an insult I took as a badge of pride. The Dread Wolf inspired hope in my friends and fear in my enemies... not unlike 'Inquisitor', I suppose. You also know the burden of a title that all but replaces your name."

Hesitantly, she looked him over. "Are you fragment of what Fen'Harel once was, like Mythal?"

"No," he said with a slight snicker. "This is all I have ever been."

"And the legends?" she asked.

He sighed heavily. "I sought to set my people free from slavery to would be gods. I broke the chains of all who wished to join me." She followed him to the edge of the cliff they stood on to over look the rest of the sprawling ruin. "The false gods called me Fen'Harel, and when they finally went too far, I formed the Veil and banished them forever. Thus I freed the elven people and, in so doing, destroyed their world."

He sounded sad, his head hanging in regret. "You love the Fade," she pointed out. "Why would you create the Veil to hide it all away?"

He looked at her, his expression devastated. "Because every alternative was worse."

She arched a brow. "Meaning?"

"Had I not created the Veil, the Evanuris would have destroyed the _entire_ world," he explained. So he had destroyed the elves' world to save the rest of Thedas?

"How did creating the Veil destroy the world?" she asked for clarification.

"You saw the remains of Vir Dirthara. The Library was intrinsically tied to the Fade, and the Veil destroyed it. There were countless other marvels, all dependent on the presence of the Fade, all destroyed. The elven legends of immortality? All true. It was not the arrival of humans that caused them to begin aging. It was me. The Veil took everything from the elves, even themselves."

"You banished the false gods... you didn't kill them?" As the memory of the pain in her hand faded, the more her thoughts began to race with questions.

"You met Mythal, did you not? The first of my people do not die so easily. The Evanuris are banished forever, paying the ultimate price for their misdeeds."

"You said that the elven gods went too far. What did they do that made you move against them?"

"They killed Mythal," he chuckled wryly. "A crime for which an eternity of torment is the only fitting punishment."

"I thought Mythal was one of the Evanuris," she said with a frown.

"She was the best of them," he agreed with a smile. "She cared for her people. She protected them. She was a voice of reason. And in their lust for power, they killed her."

"The Evanuris were elven mages? How did they come to be remembered as gods?"

"Slowly. It started with a war. War breeds fear. Fear breeds a desire for simplicity. Good and evil. Right and wrong. Chains of command. After the war ended, generals became respected elders, then kings, and finally gods. The Evanuris."

Cirilla nodded in understanding. That was how she had become the Herald after all. "That's the past. What about the future?" Solas had disappeared for a reason. She despised not knowing that reason.

He turned his face from her, knowing she was good at reading people. "I lay in dark and dreaming sleep while countless wars and ages passed. I woke still weak a year before I joined you. My people fell for what I did to strike the Evanuris down, but still some hope remains for restoration. I will save the elven people, even if it means _this_ world must die."

Her heart flipped over and she approached his back. "Solas, whatever you want, this world _dying_ is not the answer." The only thing that stopped her fingers twitching over her daggers was what he had done to the Viddasala with a thought.

"Not a good answer, no," he agreed solemnly. "Sometimes terrible choices are all that remain. It is my fight." he turned and looked at her finally, his plastered smile back on his face. "You should be more concerned about the Inquisition. Your Inquisiton. In stopping the Dragon's Breath, you have prevented an invasion by Qunari forces. With luck, they will return their focus to Tevinter. That should give you a few years of relative peace."

She crossed her arms. "The Qunari said the Inquisition was unknowingly working for agents of Fen'Harel." It was an accusation.

He looked at her with amusement. "I gave no orders."

"_You_ led us to Skyhold."

He sighed. "Corypheus should have died unlocking my orb. When he survived, my plans were thrown into chaos. When you survived, I saw the Inquisition as the best hope this world had of stopping him. And you needed a home. Hence, Skyhold."

"You gave your orb to Corypheus?" she said in disappointment. How could he have been so careless?

"Not directly." he shook his head. "My agents allowed the Venatori to locate it. The orb had built up magical energy while I lay unconscious for millennia. I was not powerful enough to open it. The plan was for Corypheus to unlock it, and for the resulting explosion to kill him. Then I would claim the orb. I did not foresee a Tevinter Magister having learned the secret of effective immortality."

She narrowed her eyes. "What would have happened if Corypheus had died and you'd recovered the orb?"

"I would have entered the Fade, using the mark you now bear. Then I would have torn down the Veil. As this world burned in the raw chaos, I would have restored the world of my time... The world of the elves," he said unfeelingly.

"If you destroyed the Veil, wouldn't the false gods be freed?" she wondered.

"I had plans," he shrugged languidly.

"You'd murder countless people?" she asked in horror.

"Wouldn't you, to save your own?" he asked with a tip of his head. "You must understand. I awoke in a world where the Veil had blocked most people's conscious connection to the Fade. It was like walking through a world of Tranquil."

"We aren't even people to you?" she growled angrily.

"The fault is hardly yours. The Veil was my creation. Another of my countless mistakes," he sighed.

Her feelings were finally realized. "You never cared about us. We were the means to an end."

He returned her glare. "You have a castle, an army, and a title that leaves every world leader quaking in fear. Be content."

"What's wrong with the Inquisition?" he had said she should be concerned, so here she was being concerned.

"You created a powerful organization, and now it suffers the inevitable fate of such. Betrayal and corruption."

"It's not that simple," she argued.

"Do you know how I discovered the Qunari plot? The plot I disrupted by leading them to your doorstep?" he asked as if she should be grateful. "The Qunari spies in the Inquisition tripped over _my_ spies in the Inquisition. The elven guard who led you to the Qunari body, who intercepted the servant with the gaatlok barrel? Mine."

She sneered. "Why bother disrupting the Qunari plot, if you're going to destroy the world regardless?"

"I will do what I must, but there is no benefit in allowing harm to come to innocents before it's necessary. And the Qunari offended me," he said haughtily.

Her anger was flaring again. "So you let us do your dirty work?"

"The mistake was yours to fix, Inquisitor," he accused.

As he insulted her yet again, the tingle of the Anchor started to make itself known. Dropping all care for anything else besides her own survival, she said, "There's still the matter of the Anchor. It's getting worse."

"Yes," he agreed as the full flare up of magic descended on her again, the flash of agony almost too much for her senses. It rocketed up her arm, past her jaw and into her skull, blinding and deafening her so she couldn't hear her own cry of distress. Every nerve in her left side went numb before exploding in a stabbing pain like fiery needles piercing her flesh. She was on her knees, screaming and clutching her arm as her vision wavered, threatening her consciousness. Solas stood over her speaking calmly. "Ultimately, none but I could have borne the mark and lived. Your death would cause more senseless chaos, more bloodshed." He grabbed her wrist with a sneer and pulled her arm from her other hand roughly. "It is unnecessary." She flinched as his grip tightened. He lifted his other hand and magic crackled before he swiftly closed his fist around it. The pain numbed, though the bright glow remained. "Though I doubt you will thank me." He dropped her hand and turned from her saying a gruff farewell. "Live well, while time remains."

She knelt, staring after him, the magic around her arm crackling and slowly trickling to the ground. After he disappeared, the eluvian closed behind him and Cirilla heard a loud grunt and some shuffling down below, where the eluvian she had entered from stood. A few muffled voices talked among each other, before Bull called out. "Kadan?!" She stared at her arm, focusing on the receding magic. Underneath the fading glow, her skin was slowly turning grey. "Kadan!?" he called again, more urgently and much closer than before.

"I... I'm here," she croaked, getting uneasily to her feet and turning to face them.

"Maker's Breath," Varric gasped when he saw her standing with her arm awkwardly outstretched and breathing heavily after the blast of pain that she had endured before Solas' spell.

She took a step toward them and stumbled. Swiftly, Bull was there. She sagged against him, his familiar warmth and rumbling voice a soothing balm against the slowly reemerging agony of her arm. It was a different type of agony, now. The mark had stopped glowing, the magic swallowed by the growing patch of heavy grey that was slowly spreading from her palm, creating a grinding pain that had her gritting her teeth. "Are you all right, Kadan? What do you need?" Bull asked, holding her as closely as he could without touching her arm.

"Your hand looks like shite, Rilly," Sera pointed out. "Not that it looked sparkling before, but..."

Varric touched Sera's arm and she silenced. "Where's Chuckles?" he asked.

"Went... went through the eluvian," she gasped around the biting pain. "Get me out of here," she pleaded, setting her eyes on Bull.

"Can you walk?" Bull asked softly, not releasing her from where he clutched her to his side.

"I... yes, I think so..." she answered.

He grudgingly let her go and with his steadying hand on her back, she took a few tentative steps. They didn't make it far past the field where they had battled the saarebas before she stumbled and Bull scooped her up, cradling her to his chest. He carried her all of the way to the now deserted Darvaarad and back to the barracks before he grumbled, looking down at her arm and stopped them. He set her on one of the bunks and knelt in front of her. "Can I have a look?" he asked as if he weren't already slowly rolling her glove off.

"Be my guest," she mumbled, her eyelids fluttering.

When the glove came off, Bull delicately began to roll her sleeve up. The grey had made it's way up to her forearm and she whimpered when she realized that the tips of her fingers had started to flake away. Solas had saved her life out of spite, but took her arm in doing so. She started to draw short panicked breaths and Bull lifted his hand to draw her chin up so she was looking at him and not her arm. She could see the realization in his eye a well. She drew her bottom lip between her teeth and bit down, swallowing the urge to wail in dismay. She blinked rapidly, trying to see him through the tears welling in her eyes. "Listen. I don't know what to do here. I'm no expert, but this doesn't look like it's going to quit spreading any time soon, Kadan."

She glanced down at the grey that was still seeping up her forearm and then desperately at his ax. He saw her chain of thought and he immediately started to shake his head. "You have to," she whimpered.

"You can't seriously think... Don't ask me to do this," he pleaded, still shaking his head.

She reached up with her right hand and cupped his cheek. "Bull, please. Asit tal-eb."

"No, It doesn't," he argued. "Stop trying to butter me up by using that amazing tongue of yours."

"Ebasit issala," she pointed out sadly, holding up her slowly decaying hand. "Take it before it gets worse, Kadan."

He sighed heavily, lowering his head so their foreheads touched. Then he drew away. "Let me hunt up supplies. We can't just hack your arm off and expect you to survive the blood loss."

He disappeared, Sera trailing behind and Varric moved to sit beside her on the squat bunk. "If you don't mind my asking, what exactly happened in that mirror between you and Chuckles?"

She sighed. "Do you really want to know?" she asked teasingly.

He chuckled wryly. "How else will the tale get told properly?"

While they waited, she told Varric the short version of the conversation she and Solas had. His mouth was agape when Bull and Sera finally returned with a field tourniquet, a stack of bandages and a freshly crafted ax from the armory. She raised her brow at him and he shrugged. "It's sharper and cleaner than the one that's been slicing through bone all day, and do you really think I want to keep using the ax that took your arm?" When she nodded, he looked back at Sera. "Stringbean, start a fire would ya... get it nice and hot. A heated blade will cauterize as it cuts, minimizing the bleeding." He set up across the room near an anvil with a vice grip then tossed the tourniquet to Varric. "As tight as you can.."

Varric gingerly rolled her sleeve up past her elbow and then wrapped the tourniquet just above her elbow. Once it was secured, Bull set a chair up beside the anvil and beckoned her over. Varric walked beside her until she dropped into the chair. Sera was already heating the blade as Bull gently took her arm and laid it flat out on the anvil. Her bicep was secured between the vice grips, above the tourniquet. "You sure about this, Ribbons?" Varric asked skeptically.

Bull collected the ax from Sera and asked Varric to stand behind her and hold her shoulder so she didn't wrench it. "Last chance to back out, Kadan," Bull said lightly as he positioned the ax above her skin, letting the heat of the blade lick over her flesh.

"It needs to be done," she said with determination. "I trust you, Kadan. Do it."

Sera stuffed a bit of leather between Cirilla's teeth and then hovered with bandages for after Bull was finished. The leather was tangy and Cirilla wrinkled her nose, trying to keep her tongue from touching the hide. "Do me a favor, Kadan," Bull said, waffling. She craned her neck in her seat to glance at him questioningly. He looked awkwardly between Sera and Varric before sighing. "Hum for me?" he asked softly. She smiled through the makeshift mouth guard.

"Hey, Tiny. No one here is judging. I think we could all use a bit of encouragement right now," Varric whispered gruffly, his voice close to her ear. She nodded slowly, breathing in around the leather. She snorted derisively, thinking of the most ridiculous song she could and started to hum. The Ballad of Nuggins.

_Oh!_  
The best of us ran when the dreadnought was sighted!  
Nuggins, Nuggins! For he heard the call.  
Tripped nine Qunari, and that's why he's knighted!  
Nuggins, Nuggins! As brave as he's small!  
  
Oh!  
A shore full of pirates, the worst set to happen.  
Nuggins, Nuggins! His heart pure and true.  
Tripped him an admiral, now he's our captain!  
Nuggins, Nuggins! For me and for you!  
  
Oh!...

Her soft hum was drowned out when Bull let out a short chuckle full of adoration."I love you, Kadan. On three," he said. She heard him grunt as he lifted the ax and forced herself to continue humming through the third verse. "One... two..." She never reached the end as the ax came down and she heard a sickening shatter as the bone was cleaved in two. She screamed herself hoarse, her song interrupted and the leather falling from her mouth so she barely heard the scrape of the ax across the anvil's surface. Her stomach rolled as she felt the searing pain of the fire before the air hit the open wound when he pulled the ax away. Another blast of pain radiated up her arm when Sera touched a thick stack of bandages to the ruined flesh, mumbling 'shite' over and over. Her head was forced back and she recognized the earthy taste of an elfroot potion as it was tipped into her mouth. She swallowed and whimpered, dropping her head. The scent of charred flesh reached her nostrils and her head swam. Last thing she remembered was someone catching her head before she pitched forward when her arm was released from the vice.

Her mouth tasted like dirt. It was the first thing she noticed as reality began to slowly creep back in around her. Wherever she was, it was dark, even through her closed eyelids, she could tell that. Her mind took stock of her body, assessing why she had been asleep. The earthy taste. Elfroot, she recalled. She was somewhere soft, her back sunk into a padded surface and a pillow beneath her head. She felt weary in spite of the short bought of unconsciousness. Her head ached and her muscles felt overused. When she shifted, attempting to ball her fists to stretch out the stiffness, the truth slammed back into her. Her movement and the soft whimper that escaped her as her mind raced with all of the things that she would never be able to do again, seemed to set off a light creaking of furniture nearby. "Hey, Kadan...?"

Her heart fluttered, hearing his whispering voice as he shifted closer to her. She forced her eyes open and saw him sitting in a chair beside where she was laying. She looked around, her eyes scanning the room. It was frilly, the bed she laid in surrounded by a drapery. The curtains were drawn on three sides, the fourth left open so he could watch her. They were back at the Palace, in her room. She frowned, remembering nothing after the Darvaarad and the bite of the ax. The end of the stump where her lower arm used to reside was sending small electric responses, throbbing in time with her heartbeat. Bull had taken her whole forearm, from just below her elbow.

"You okay?" he asked her softly when her eyes fell on him again. He was offering her a small relieved smile of his own, but it was cautious. His eye kept flicking nervously to her arm.

She shifted, pushing herself into a sitting position with her remaining arm. Bull reached out and shifted the pillow so she could lean back on it. She glanced down at her missing arm and saw the fresh dressings, barely soaked through. "How long have we been back?" she asked, her voice raspy with thirst.

He reached over to the squat nightstand beside the bed where a glass sat full of water. Handing it to her, he said, "Coupla days. You lost a lot of blood between here and the Darvaarad. I thought that Vint of yours was going to explode when he saw you. Wiggled his fingers, then had you brought here where a few medics looked you over, before he cussed at them and decided to do it himself."

She snorted lightly in amusement before sipping gratefully from the glass. "I think he's more of a mother hen than you." She sat quietly for a moment, allowing everything to sink in, while he watched her patiently. Finally, she sighed. "Any news from the Exalted Council?"

"Ach," he grumbled in annoyance. "The politicians are all tripping over each other's dicks while Red tries to keep them in line. From what I hear, it's the same argument going around in circles until everyone gets dizzy enough to go to recess. They take a break and then jump right back in the lake on a full stomach."

She drew her legs up, crossing them under her and set the glass in the hollow space between them. "I guess Varric spread the story about everything that happened in the eluvians?"

"Yeah..." he said, drawing the word out and a flash of anger crossing his face. "Don't think I like the sound of what Solas thinks the future should look like."

She agreed with a solemn nod. "We need to find him and stop him..." she bit her lip and glanced up at him through her lashes. "But we can't do it as the Inquisition. 'Some things can only be accomplished in shadow'," she quoted Leliana.

"So what are you going to do?" he asked her curiously.

"First..." she said, picking up the glass and reaching to set it back on the nightstand. "I need to get dressed." She kicked the pile of blankets atop her to the bottom of the bed and swung her legs around. The swift movement had her swaying, gripping the edge of the bed with her remaining hand.

"Easy now," Bull chided gently as he carefully placed his hands on her shoulders to steady her. "I think you could do with a meal before you get too crazy." The mention of food made her stomach rumble in agreement. She nodded. "You relax, and I'll go get you some food and another dose of elfroot. It should help with the throbbing." She had been with Bull too long to have to wonder how he knew that her arm had been aching since she woke up. He stood and lightly kissed her forehead before taking his hands from her shoulders and quietly leaving the room.

A few hours later, her strength restored and the elfroot taking most of the ache away, Cirilla dressed in her finery, rolling up the long sleeve and pinning it in place over top the ugly bandage. Dorian helpfully winged her eyes in khol before she settled her mask in place, and then he brushed his fingers over her missing arm and she felt a small bit of healing magic settle into her skin to take care of the rest of the discomfort. He patted her cheek with a smile and then shooed her to do what needed to be done. She clutched the heavy tome to her chest with her remaining arm, remembering back to the first time Cassandra had slammed it on the table in front of Chancellor Roderick.

The Council was in full swing, the arguing voices able to be heard through the closed entry doors. “Clearly something must be done, but we cannot lose the Inquisition now... We stand on the brink of war with the Qunari!” Duke Cyril said nervously.

“Yes!” Teagan interrupted. “Because this 'Solas' provoked them in the first place!”

Josephine's voice was strained as she fought. Cirilla stepped through the door as the guards pushed it open for her, and into the room, walking down the aisle with purpose as Josie spoke. The table where they'd sat on their first day had been removed and was replaced by several rows of spectator chairs as well as a line along the right hand wall where her Inner Circle all sat. Josephine was standing before the raised dais where Leliana sat, back rigid between the two arguing men. “The Inquisition did not cause this threat! We informed the summit of the danger...”

“The danger posed by Qunari spies inside _your _organization!” Teagan raged.

“Without _our_ organization, you would not be alive to complain,” Leliana said, snidely, her composure clearly rattled.

Teagan sighed. “No one has forgotten what you have done, but Corypheus is two years dead.”

Cyril sighed as well. “If the Inquisition is to continue, it must do so as a legitimate organization, not a glorified mercenary band.”

When she stepped up beside Josephine and the entire room got a good look at her, complete silence fell. It was obvious that her circumstances had not traveled far beyond her inner circle. Likely because Varric had spun some story that made her look the daring hero coming out of the fight with little more than a few cuts and bruises. “Inquisitor?” Josephine said softly, her eyes falling to Cirilla's missing arm and her jaw dropping.

With a small smile at her ambassador, Cirilla lifted the heavy tome before her, projecting her voice above the whispers that had begun. "You all know what this is. A writ from Divine Justina authorizing the formation of the Inquisition. We pledged to close the Breach, find those responsible, and restore order..." she glanced at Cassandra, sitting off to the side with a smirk. "With or without anyone's approval." Cassandra returned her smile, nodding appreciatively. She lowered the tome and continued. "We have fulfilled that pledge. And now the war is over, for most of us. It is time for our soldiers to sheathe their swords and go home. To all who served..." she turned to Josephine, handing the tome to the ambassador who accepted it with a shocked expression. "Thank you. It has been an honor. Effective immediately, the Inquisition is disbanded."

She left the hall amidst gasps and whispers, her own heart pounding. Bull was waiting for her outside and they headed to a nearby balcony off the gardens, sitting on a bench. "You okay?" His hand rubbed up and down her back.

"This was for the best," she nodded, leaning her head into him.

Slowly, as the Council came to an abrupt end with her declaration, her friends sifted from the hall and wandered over to join them. They were in various states of shock and understanding as they gathered around, taking seats. "That was all for show, right?" Sera asked bluntly.

"Marred, mangled, mourning... She plucks the strings from behind the scenes, silent in the shadows," Cole recited softly.

"Right, whatever," Sera said, flapping a hand at Cole. Sera had never quite gotten used to Cole, even after he had become human. But now she tolerated him, at least, allowing him to speak to her directly. "So what're we going to do about Fenny mucking up the world? Cuz I live in the world and I think he's as bonkers as Coryphenshit ever was."

"We shouldn't talk about this here," Cirilla said with a smile at Sera. "I have an idea, but I need a few weeks to check things out. Once I'm settled, I can send out ravens to you all... Innocuous letters to my friends that will let you know the state of things. That in no way obligates you to help. Most of you have lives of your own to take care of, and I understand. But we can't make any of this obvious. For all anyone knows, the Inquisition died in that room."

"That's all well and good, my dear, but I am dying to hear the _real _story about what happened in the eluvians," Vivienne said, casting a glance at Varric who shrugged.

"I may have embellished a little," Varric said nonchalantly.

Cassandra let out a small noise of disgust, rolling her eyes, and Cirilla pulled her legs up under her, grinning. "Maybe I'll compose a ballad later, but for now, I think I can tell it without music..."

A month after the Exalted council, Cirilla stood in the dungeon below Haven's Chantry. She and the Chargers had quietly excavated the stone building and she had brought in a few furnishings, nothing too fancy, to hide the fact that there was even anyone coming and going from the remains of the town. Dagna had worked another miracle at Sera's request, building Cirilla a complex prosthetic with interchangeable heads. She had a dagger attachment, runed for bardic enchantments, a miniature crossbow that folded up and tucked inside the hollow arm, pre-loaded with repeating bolts (a design she had 'borrowed' from Bianca's design), and even a semi functioning hand that she could cover with a glove to make it look real. She preferred the aesthetic of the shining metal most days. With the press of a button, each head would recede to be replaced by the next. Dagna had whipped it up so quickly in the Undercroft that Cirilla was convinced that there would be plenty of kinks to work out, but so far, in the two weeks she'd had it, it had worked like a dream. She had bought Dagna a month's supply of coffee in thanks and the tiny woman had hugged her so tightly she thought her circulation would be cut off to her legs before she let go.

She stood behind a small table with maps spread across the surface, her 'arms' crossed as she waited. Slowly, people trickled in. Bull was at her side already and Sera stood near the door leaning casually against the frame. Scout Harding was similarly leaning against a pillar to her right, and Cassandra leaned on the table across from her, pouring over the maps. Leliana strolled in quietly, her hands clasped behind her back. She swayed to a stop, clad in her usual spymaster's gear, having replaced the mantle of the Divine for secrecy's sake. She glanced around to see who had shown up, and sighed. "My agents have found nothing. With the eluvians, he could be anywhere."

"With the Inquisition officially disbanded, we have no army, no formal alliances..." Cassandra pointed out with mild concern.

"We have what we truly need," Leliana said encouragingly.

Cassandra sighed heavily. "We will _need _to be careful."

Leliana nodded. "Solas knows everything about us. Who we are, how we work, our strengths and weaknesses..."

"Then we find people he doesn't know..." Cirilla said with a shrug, determination in her stance. "We will stop Solas by any means necessary. We didn't all get played so he can get off scott free." She found herself massaging the bicep of her missing arm, the memory of the ache of the Anchor still fresh in her mind. "I've been in contact with Dorian. Since he got back home, he's been riling up the Magisterium. Cullen is quietly recruiting some ex templars like himself under the auspices of running a lyrium withdrawl sanctuary..."

"Charter and I have been sending word to only our most trusted contacts and the responses have been mostly positive," Harding explained. "They will know how to get things done outside of the scope."

"Good," Cirilla nodded. "Thankfully, my exit from the Exalted Council has kept everyone off my back, leaving me in peace. As far as anyone knows, I'm recovering from my injuries and have become a full time Charger and part time Jenny."

"So rumor has it," Leliana agreed with a smirk and wink.

Cirilla grinned. "I'm certain the Divine has been very chatty about the new, less-tiresome life of the former Inquisitor." Leliana shrugged innocently.

Bull harrumphed. "This is great, Boss, but I know you don't believe that Solas is going to believe you're giving up."

She laid her palms on the table, the firelight catching the shimmering metal of her left arm and winking softly as it reflected off the surface. "I don't give a damn what Solas believes. As long as he has no idea what I'm _actually_ doing. It's his turn to sit in the dark." She glanced up at her tiny gathering and smiled. "All right, everyone. I think we have a solid plan on how to get started. I don't want anything sent that can be traced here or decoded. If I need to hear about something, send an innocuous raven and I will find you. It's safer that way... and it was good seeing you all."

As the others said their goodbyes and filtered from Haven with their orders, Bull's hand fell on her back lightly. "Now that _that's_ out of the way," he mumbled suggestively.

She turned around to face him and he lifted her up to plunk her ass on the rickety table. "Oh?" she asked with her own purr of desire, lifting her arms to rest them on his shoulders, the fingers on her right hand playing over his skin and tracing his ear lobe slowly. "Was there something else you wanted to _bring up_?" She reached around him with her legs and pulled him closer to her.

He chuckled lightly. "Pretty sure it's already up, Kadan."

She gasped playfully. "Right here in the Chantry? That'll get you a flogging."

"If that's what you want, there's some chains left hanging on the wall of that cell behind me. Pretty sure I can rig something that'll keep you in place. Can't have you wriggling loose of that prosthetic like you did last time... That was cheating, by the way," he rumbled, leaning in closer to nip at her neck and slip his hand up under her tunic.

She hummed a chuckle from her chest. "I would behave, but good girls don't get punished..."

He bit down on her neck harder. "Minx..." then he lifted her from the table and carried her into the cell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Qunlat translation  
Asit tal-eb: it's meant to be  
Ebasit issala: It is dust


End file.
